


Hurts to be Human

by ABrighterDarkness



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Clint Barton, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Beta Sam Wilson, F/M, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Omega Bucky Barnes, Omega Natasha Romanov, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Protective Siblings, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: Bucky was...he wasn’t jealous not in any way that meant he resented what they had or would cause harm or problems to get what they had.  But, it did paint a very pretty picture of what he had been missing while they had him. Would he have found this? Fallen into this sort of family dynamic had he not been taken?  Could this have been his life?Not that it really mattered, in the end.  He had been taken.  He had spent the last few years at the beck and call of a massive network of Omega-Traffickers.  Bucky never had a potential buyer in the works.  Not even a cursory look from one as far as he knew. Something for which he was undeniably grateful, but at the same time what he did have was falling under the unending control and manipulation.  Forced to lie, cheat, and steal.  Forced to harm others while under the force of the Commands.  What he did have was memories; too many of them and too few of them good.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Comments: 152
Kudos: 352





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first full-length story I've written for the Marvel fandom and my first attempt at writing anything within the ABO Universe. I'm both ridiculously excited and nervous about it. Really hope you get some enjoyment out of it! 
> 
> I want to give a HUGE thank you to raynaki who was an absolute _angel_ at helping me to brainstorm and flesh out this storyline. This story would absolutely not exist without her wonderful help and feedback. 
> 
> The title of this story comes from the song "Hurts 2B Human" by P!nk and Khalid. It's a lovely song if you haven't yet heard it and definitely been an inspiration when writing this.
> 
> Anywho! Enjoy and let me know what you think if you feel so inclined :)

It was early when Steve began his morning routine. Throwing on clothes meant for working dirty and a pot of coffee. Both a necessity for a typical early morning, especially the coffee. The sun hadn’t even begun tinting the horizon yet and wouldn’t for at least another hour, especially now that the days had begun growing shorter. But the various animals that shared his home wouldn’t wait for sunrise. Well, they  _ could  _ wait but Steve knew better than to leave it so late. He had learned  _ that _ particular lesson the hard way. 

_ Temperamental beasts _ , he couldn’t help but think fondly as he tipped his empty coffee mug upside down into the sink and snagged his well-worn jacket off of the peg by the door. Opening the door, he crouched slightly to tug on mud-caked boots, grimacing slightly at the cold that had seeped into the leather overnight. Steve carefully reached behind him to pull the front door closed behind him. It wouldn’t be the first time he had accidentally pulled the handle right off when he wasn’t being mindful. He knew that he was notorious for forgetting his own strength, having spent the majority of his youth having virtually none. 

He gave the expansive property a thorough, cursory glance as he crossed towards the large barn that he had built several years ago. All of the buildings on the property had been built with his own hands and those of his Pack, his family. There was something incredibly satisfying about living in a place that  _ he _ had created. A safe place they could all call home.

With none of the care he used with his own front door, Steve heaved the heavy barn door across its track, shoving it open enough to walk through, absently pulling on the sturdy gloves that he had grabbed off the shelf just inside the door as he went. He quickly lost himself in the soothing monotony of routine. Feed, refilling the water basins, cleaning stalls, checking the general health of the handful of animals in his care. It had been his life for long enough that it had become more meditative than an actual chore, even the rambled one-sided conversations he held with the beasts as he tended them. 

Sam and Tash had gotten a kick out of it the first time they caught him talking to the cows. Steve thought it was worth the heckling to hear them both laugh so freely.

It wasn’t until made his approach to the horse stalls, generally left for last since they took the longest and demanded most of his attention to care for, that something jolted him from his routine-induced haze. Steve froze, frowning deeply in confusion as something tugged sharply at his senses on an instinctual level. Something was off and Steve had long ago learned to listen to those urgings. They had saved his life more than once.

There. A bitter sweetness saturating air, tickling his senses and setting him on edge. Something else...he tilted his head and listened carefully. It wouldn’t be the first time a predator of some sort had managed to get into the barn. Usually snakes but there was the occasional fox, nothing that he usually struggled to handle. Unless it was rabid. That was an entirely different bundle of fun though. But none of the usual suspects carried a scent quite like the one that was tugging at him now.

Breathing. Pained breathing. That was what he was hearing. Steve took a couple near-silent steps in the direction of the sound. He rounded the wall of hay bales--he absently noted that he would need to restock before the season ended and winter set in fully--when the bitter scent of distressed Omega slammed into him causing his eyes and nose to burn at the potency. 

He found the source of the scent curled tightly into the furthest corner. From what Steve could tell, he wasn’t fully conscious. Instinctively, Steve eased calming pheromones into the space between them as he cautiously approached, dropping his body language into something as unthreatening as an Alpha of his size could manage. As he drew nearer, Steve took stock of the stranger in his barn. Scent alone had pegged him as an Omega, but he was in terrible shape. Even caked as he was in a thick layer of dirt and grime, Steve could smell the familiar metallic notes that suggested he was or had been bleeding. Significantly if the strength of the smell was any indication. 

After a moment of hesitation, Steve extended his hand and rested it on the man’s shoulder to see if he could get anything coherent out of him. There was a pained groan, a spike of fear in his scent, and he attempted to scramble blindly away before the pain seemed to take over and consciousness was lost. 

Steve’s frown deepened in concern. With another pause, he drew a deep breath, nose wrinkling at the overwhelming amount of distress pheromones filling his senses, and carefully gathered the unconscious Omega into his arms, rising slowly. It was discouraging just how little he weighed, considering Steve would estimate him at just a few inches shorter than Steve himself. As he maneuvered through the barn, he shot an apologetic look to the horses--they were going to be a petulant mess to deal with later, he knew--and carefully made his way back to the house. 

He had to bite back an annoyed growl when he felt the door handle give way under his grip as he pushed his way inside, not wanting to disturb the man in his arms any more than the jostling of movement already might have, not with how strong the fear radiated off of him before he lost consciousness. With careful steps, Steve managed to get them up the narrow stairs and into one of the Pack bedrooms that he kept made in case one of them chose to stay for the night. He would beg Tash’s forgiveness later. Once he’d gotten the Omega settled gently onto the bed, he carefully unlaced and removed the filthy but sturdy boots, setting them on the floor at the foot of the bed.

After a moment of consideration, Steve went down to the kitchen, pulling a large basin from the cabinet and filling it with warm water. He tossed a couple of clean rags into the water and set to making a light lunch, there was no telling when the last time the Omega had eaten anything substantial, quite some time if his weight was any indication. That in mind, he settled on reheating some of the soup that Bruce had sent home with him the night before. 

Speaking of Bruce, Steve quickly opened and closed each of the cabinets until he found the generous first aid kit the Doc had put together for him. After what had to have been the hundredth or so untreated farm-typical injury that Steve had accumulated in a short period of time--he  _ might _ be a little less coordinated than he’d ever admit to being--Doctor Banner had all but forced the kit upon him and made him swear to actually  _ use it _ . 

Now though, he was appreciative of the gift even if he wasn’t using it for its intended purpose.

Then he paused and frowned in frustration. There was no way he could get everything up the stairs in one go without making a mess and a whole lot of noise. He knew he was nowhere near coordinated enough to even attempt it. But what took priority? Should he try to balance the basin and the first aid kit? Neither were really that heavy. Shouldn’t be that hard, should it?

Squaring his shoulders at the challenge, he settled the kit onto the countertop and carefully lowered the water-filled basin on top of it. Focusing on staying as steady as possible, he slid the stack off of the counter to rest against his chest and forearms, hands curling to grip the opposite edge of the kit. It was awkward and took more maneuvering than it really probably should have--more than it probably  _ would have _ had he not been so rushed to get back to the injured Omega upstairs--but Steve managed to get up the stairs and the stack settled on top of the low sitting dresser across from the foot of the bed. A quick glance told him that the Omega was still out, he exhaled in relief and took off back down the stairs to gather a bowl of hot soup and one of the sturdy chairs from the dining table. He lowered the chair next to the bed and the soup onto the dresser beside the first aid kit and basin tower. 

After a moment of hesitation, he carried the basin of water to the side table and wrung the excess water from one of the rags. Quietly cursing his overly large, clumsy hands, Steve worked as gently as he knew how to clean the dirt and grime from the unconscious man’s face, lightening his touch further when dark bruising was revealed. When Steve finished cleaning his face and neck, steadfastly ignoring the hint of the natural sweet honeysuckle scent that was more identifiable now that the Omega was not quite as caked in grime and no longer had his fear and distress pouring off of him in waves, he froze. 

It rankled, the idea of undressing the unconscious Omega. But he still hadn’t found the source of the bleeding. The last thing he wanted was for infection to set in or worse in the meantime. 

“C’mon, Rogers, no different from battle dressing,” he chided himself under his breath. Steve pulled as much of his old training to the forefront of his mind in attempts to quash some of the discomfort. With steady movements, he managed to get the Omega down to his underclothes, refusing to undress him any further than that. The mud-caked clothes were dropped heedlessly into a pile on the floor near the man’s boots. He continued the gentle cleaning motions with a fresh rag, down his neck and over shoulders, to the fingertips. 

Steve dropped the rag back into the basin and lightly pressed his hands against the man’s ribs, checking for breaks or difficulty breathing. When his right hand pressed over his abdomen, a whimper escaped as he began to regain consciousness, sparked by the pain. The sharp, bitter tang of distress immediately began to saturate the room.

“You’re okay,” Steve soothed, instinctively releasing calming pheromones easing some of the distress. Steve carefully withdrew his hand from the point that caused him pain and frowning at the tacky, red blood coating his palm. “You’re safe.” He watched the Omega struggle to open his eyes and offered a warm smile when grey eyes found his. “There you go. I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re safe here.”

Dark brows furrowed in pained confusion, “Who?”

“My name is Steve Rogers,” Steve answered, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “I found you in my barn this morning. Can you tell me your name?” The Omega eyed him warily and Steve just smiled in understanding. “You don’t have to, that’s fine. I do need to take a look at some of these injuries though. I’ve got some food for you? After? If you want. Doctor Banner, a friend of mine in town, seems to think I’ll burn the house down if I try to cook on my own so likes to send stuff home with me when the others are gonna be staying in town for a while.”

Something about his rambling must have soothed the Omega because he sank back against the mattress and gave a slow nod, presumably in acceptance of the food. Steve matched his nod and indicated to the hem of the undershirt he still wore, “Do you mind if I take a look? You’re still bleeding pretty badly. Or would you rather I bring you into town for Doc to check you over?”

Steve could feel the muscles under his left hand tense and watched his eyes widen in panic. “Okay, okay, easy,” he soothed automatically. “No, Doc Banner. It’s okay, that’s okay. You're safe here. Won’t bring anyone else in for now.” The heavy exhale drew a wince and Steve cringed in sympathy. He carefully rolled the bottom edge of the shirt up, careful to only expose as much as absolutely necessary to get to the injury. Which turned out to be a long laceration across the left side of his abdomen stretching from the lower curve of his rib cage to below the saturated undershorts and what looked to be several deeply embedded splinters, the skin around which was already becoming inflamed. He couldn’t help the sad, sympathetic sound that escaped him as the damage became visible.

He quickly got to his feet and grabbed the first aid kit from the dresser and rested it on the bed next to the Omega’s legs and propped it open. Steve kept up the steady stream of rambling one-sided conversation as he worked much like he often found himself doing in the barn among the animals. Splinters--though ‘splinters’ were understating some of them considering the shards of wood were several inches in length--and laceration aside, the poor man was rapidly becoming one large, walking--well, not so much  _ walking _ at the moment--bruise. Whatever he had gone through before finding his way into Steve’s barn hadn’t been kind to the Omega. 

When Steve finally finished removing splinters from the majority of his left side and cleaning the torn skin caused by the splintered wood and more of whatever had caused the cut on his abdomen, he carefully bandaged all of it the best he knew how. It had taken longer than he had anticipated and Steve was mentally kicking himself for heating the soup so early. It was undoubtedly cold after all of that time. He sighed regretfully and turned to face the unnamed man, “I heated soup for you but...it’s probably cold. If you’re okay to wait a few minutes I can refresh it?”

He nodded in agreement and then hesitated before speaking, “Could I--Could I have water, please?”

“Of course! I’m sorry,” Steve frowned, mentally kicking himself for forgetting something so  _ simple _ . “I should have thought of that. I’ll bring some back up with me. Just rest. You’re safe here.”

“Thank you,” the soft voice follows him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Steve quickly dug through the cabinet to find the tray that had belonged to his ma. The one that had been placed over his own lap time and time again when he was sick as a kid. He made a small, pleased sound as he tugged it out of the back corner of the cabinet and set it on the countertop. He quickly put together another large bowl of heated soup, bread, and water. After a moment he went ahead and filled a pitcher in case the single glass wasn’t enough.

He had just dug out some of his hidden stash of chocolate--that he wouldn’t  _ have  _ to hide if Clint wasn’t constantly  _ stealing it from him _ \--to add to the tray when he hesitated and flushed slightly. The simple meal had morphed into something...else entirely. The soup, bread, and water aside, he had absently added the jar of honey that he had traded for earlier in the season, an apple from the old tree at the edge of his property, and now chocolate from his stash. While, granted, it wasn’t really all that much, it wasn’t as overboard as he might have gone, he had put a little bit of everything sweet he had in his house at the moment. 

Having an Omega other than Tash in his home was messing with his mind.

Steve shook off the thought but couldn’t bring himself to remove anything from the prepared tray. So much for a ‘light’ meal. He took a deep breath and took the meal offering up stairs and set it on the dresser where the first aid kit had been previously. “Can you sit up?” he asked calmly.

At the first sign of pain, Steve moved forward and carefully helped him sit upright, rearranging pillows to better support his back. 

“Thank you,” he said in that same quiet tone. 

Steve smiled and brought the tray over and settled it across his lap before retaking a seat in the chair at the bedside. His mild embarrassment at possibly overdoing the meal was soothed when the Omega lit up just slightly and reached immediately for the square of chocolate at the edge of the tray. “I wasn’t sure I was gonna have any left,” Steve said, indicating to the chocolate and continuing with his conversational babbling. “Clint, my friend, likes to raid the kitchen. I’ve taken to hiding some of it and leaving the rest in more obvious places. It seems to be working so far.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had any,” the Omega admitted with a small, small smile. 

“There’s more,” Steve offered. “If you finish your actual food.”

They fell into silence as he tucked into the soup. After he had made his way through half, he glanced up and studied Steve intently enough to make him want to squirm in his chair. He resisted the urge. Barely. But the Omega seemed to pick up on it anyway and smirked knowingly. “Bucky,” he said at last. At Steve’s confused frown, he huffed and shook his head, “My  _ name _ .”

“Oh, right,” Steve fumbled over his words. “Steve. Wait. I already told you that.”

“You did,” Bucky confirmed, that smirk still playing on his lips and Steve couldn’t have forced down the flush rising over his face had he tried. The reaction seemed to amuse Bucky because the smirk turned into a more genuine grin which, in turn, only caused Steve’s blush to deepen. Damn his fair skin.

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair out of habit, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and studying his hands for a moment. Glancing back up at the Om-- _ Bucky _ he scolded himself, “I-I know I said it before but you  _ are _ safe here. No one’ll bother you here. However long you need.”

Bucky nodded hesitantly and turned back to his soup, stirring absently. “The others? That you mentioned? They won’t mind?”

Steve blinked in surprise having half-forgotten most of what he said during his rambling attempts to calm Bucky while he treated the numerous injuries. “Oh, no,” he shook his head with a self-deprecating smile. “No, they’re still back in town. We rotate out every so often from keeping an eye on things. It’s my turn for a little normalcy so they forced me out of the office.”

Bucky frowned and tilted his head slightly in thought, “Clint? And Doctor Banner?”

“Clint, yes. Doctor Banner, no,” Steve corrected and settled back into the chair more comfortably. “Clint, Tash--Natasha--and Sam. Think I work too much. Doctor Banner runs a clinic among other things and is also a close friend.”

“Your...pack?” Bucky asked, hesitant but curious.

“Yeah,” Steve answered with a soft smile for his family. “Yeah, they’re great but they know me too well to put up with some of my quirks.”

“Like working too much?” Bucky smirked in understanding.

“Like working too much,” Steve said with a small laugh. After a moment, he rose from his chair and began gathering up the basin and the various mess from the first aid kit that had been used and discarded on the floor as he went. He carefully stacked the basin--filled with dirty water and the trash--on top of the first aid kit once again and lifted the pile. “I’m gonna go take care of all this. You should finish up your food,” he said, nodding towards the tray.

“Steve?” Bucky called hesitantly as Steve was leaving the room. Steve paused and looked over his shoulder in question. “Thank you, again. For...everything.”

Steve smiled genuinely and nodded, “No thanks needed but you’re welcome.”


	2. Chapter 2

And so it went. 

Over the days that followed, Steve had his usual morning routine that included being up before the sun began to tint the sky to tend to the various creatures that call his little property home. His one-sided conversations with the animals began to include what updates he could include of Bucky’s recovery. Somewhere in his brain, Steve felt it only right to share with the ones who temporarily housed their current guest. He did make a point to give a little more time and attention to the horses each day to make up for the lack of the day he found Bucky. 

Afterwards, when the sun was finally peaking prettily over the horizon, Steve would check on Bucky to ensure he was still sleeping peacefully, gently waking him if the dreams turned dark. Then he moved quickly but efficiently through the rest of his morning routine; a quick shower to wash off the smells of the barn and then setting about making breakfast. Despite opinions to the contrary, Steve was perfectly capable of cooking but he certainly wasn’t stupid enough to turn down food when it was offered. Especially if it made those who cared about him worry just a little bit less. He would load the tray with food enough for both of them with a few small sweet things as had become a habit that still made him blush slightly.

After they ate, Steve would check over the worst of Bucky’s injuries which were, thankfully, healing quite well. They would talk through the whole stretch of eating and tending and then Steve would retake his spot in the chair and it would continue on. 

By the time that first week had passed, Steve found himself struggling and struggling hard. Every part of his Alpha hindbrain was possessively preening over tending to the injured Omega. Having him in Steve’s home, feeding and caring for him. Bucky had even been _wearing Steve’s clothes_. They were large on him. Sure, borrowing some of Sam’s clothes would have been a better fit but Steve hadn’t been able to bring himself to do that. It certainly didn’t help when Bucky would duck his chin absently tucking his nose into the well-worn fabric. And then there was that flare of that sweet, sweet honeysuckle scent every time he spotted that little square of chocolate every evening was a balm that Steve hadn’t known he needed so desperately. 

It really hadn’t helped that the healthier Bucky got the more witty and sarcastic he turned out to be. Gods help him, Steve was in _trouble_ with this one. 

Steve braced his hands against the countertop in the kitchen and hung his head and let his eyes close, breathing deeply to ground himself. He could do this. He could continue to help Bucky without getting all... _claimy_ over him. That was the last thing a healing Omega needed, some possessive Alpha pawing at him under the guise of helping. Bucky wasn’t _his_. No matter what Steve’s hindbrain insisted.

“Steve?”

Steve scrambled upright, barely managing to avoid hitting his head on the cupboard as he went, and pasted on a bright smile to hopefully cover his own awkwardness. How had he missed Bucky’s approach? He wasn’t usually _that_ absentminded. “Hey Buck! Lunch’ll be ready in a bit.”

Bucky arched a brow in obvious disbelief at his act and Steve let the forced smile settle into the genuine thing he seemed to always feel since having found Bucky in his barn among the hay bales. Bucky’s disbelieving expression shifted into something studious, as though searching for something. It relaxed into an easy smile after a moment that tugged sharply at Steve’s heart. _A week!_ He had been in Steve’s home for just a week. How was this even a thing?

“How’re you feeling?” Steve asked, turning his attention away from the task of pulling various ingredients from the refrigerator and cupboards for the meal he was attempting to prepare to face Bucky fully.

“Better after a shower,” he responded immediately and then flushed faintly. Steve forced himself not to linger on how lovely the flush was on the man. “Better in general. Thank you. Again. For everything.”

“No thanks necessary,” Steve answered with the same words he used every time Bucky tried to thank him for helping. “But you’re welcome.”

“I-I’m nearly back to full health,” Bucky hedged, rocking back slightly on his heels.

“Nearly,” Steve agreed, wondering where the stilted conversation was leading.

“I think,” he started and then paused, eyeing Steve hesitantly. “I think I could be out of your hair in the next couple of days.”

Steve swallowed down the automatic urge to shut down the idea of him leaving altogether and exhaled slowly. “If that’s what you want,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But don’t think you gotta take off just because you’re starting to feel better. You’re safe here as long as you need. Or as long as you want, for that matter.”

Bucky just stared at him with an inscrutable expression for a long moment before dropping those grey eyes that Steve had quickly come to love to the floor. His fingers twisted and played with the bottom hem of the shirt--Steve’s shirt--that he wore. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I imagine you’ve gotta get back to town before your Pack worries.”

After a moment of hesitation, Steve reached out slowly, giving Bucky ample time to withdraw if he wanted or needed to, and closed one large hand over Bucky’s to still the anxious movement. Grey eyes shot up in surprise at the contact to meet his and Steve smiled softly but allowed himself to speak genuinely. “Your welcome is an open invitation, first off. It’s not something you can overstay. You let me deal with the Pack. It’ll be fine. You’ll see. You’re--You’re welcome to come with me? Into town? We can pick up some stuff for you while we’re there. And you can meet them. That is if you’re up for it, of course, there’s no need to rush the trip if you’re not feeling up to the ride just yet.”

“No, no, that sounds--but I can’t repay you,” Bucky fumbled with a small frown, looking down at himself and the borrowed clothes. “For any of this. Not yet. I will though.”

“Not necessary,” Steve said with a shake of his head. “I might not have a whole lot by some peoples’ standards but I’ve got plenty enough. It doesn’t cost me anything to share it with you. If you truly feel the need to repay me then we can talk about that more when you’re back on your feet. Until then, don’t concern yourself over it.”

Bucky tilted his head, that look of disbelief painting his features once again, “You’re really something else, Steve Rogers.”

Steve felt himself flush at the frank statement and ducked his head slightly in a poor attempt to hide it, “Nah, I’ve just kinda...been there.”

“Right,” Bucky scoffed a bitter smirk on his face that Steve instantly disliked. “‘Cause a big ol’ Alpha like you has had some asshole using Commands to make you do stupid shit that nearly gets you killed.” He immediately winced heavily and looked away sharply when he realized his own words.

Steve stiffened and had to force down the sharp curl of anger in his gut, “Buck?”

“How likely is it that you’ll forget about that?” 

“Bucky, please. What did they do to you?” Steve asked, voice soft but insistent. “I-I mean, if you really don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you.”

Bucky huffed and ran a shaking hand through his hair and moved over to the table to drop into one of the chairs, nodding to the adjacent one pointedly. Steve followed the directive and folded himself into the indicated seat, resting his forearms against the table with his hands folded together. Steve settled into the seat and gave Bucky his full attention. 

“You’re safe here,” Steve reminded him gently when he could read the obvious hesitation and discomfort. “No matter what happened, you’re safe.”

Bucky nodded slowly and drew a deep breath, exhaling before he drew up the nerve to continue. “Before you found me…” and the tale spilled out over the table between them. That they had all but taken him off of the streets. Used Alpha Commands to force him into compliance, to force him into a number of heists and crimes. He confessed the brutal punishments as though they were something terrible that _he_ had done and not something done to him. Although he could tell that the story was intentionally left vague, Steve’s heart broke a little more with each word spoken. Something about his story tickled as familiar in the back of his mind but Steve couldn’t find the focus to chase it down. Not when Bucky was eyeing him with such fearful trepidation.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said softly after a drawn out silence following the story.

Steve couldn’t hold back the incredulous huff of laughter that burst from him and he shook his head slowly, reaching out slowly, clearly telegraphing the movement, to cover one of Bucky’s hands with his own. “Bucky,” he said insistently waiting until he had his full attention before continuing. “You have _nothing_ to apologize for. Not to me, especially. Your free will was taken from you, first of all, those actions weren’t your fault. And what free will you _might_ have had? You did what you had to do to survive. I’m sure as hell not going to judge or condemn you for that.”

“You got away,” Steve continued gently. “You’re here and you’re safe.”

“You don’t know these guys, Steve,” Bucky insisted. “They’re not just going to let me go if they find out I survived. They’re going to come for me. It’s--it’s not safe for you. I can’t put this on you. That’s not right.”

Steve drew himself up, consciously embracing the Alpha in him freely in a way he rarely allowed himself to. He really had no desire to use his size or designation to intimidate or to force submission like some Alphas seemed to get off on. He had learned quickly, after presenting, that his size and presence could be intimidating if he allowed it to be and, generally, he didn’t give himself the permission to let that presence free. It didn’t matter to him that suppressing those aspects of himself left him slightly off-kilter and vaguely disoriented, it was worth a little bit of poor coordination to ensure those around him felt safe and comfortable around him. That didn’t mean he didn’t know _how_ to use it, to feel it and to _own it,_ when needed. He embraced it fully just then, let his ironclad control loosen. He leveled Bucky with an even stare and grinned almost vindictively, “Let them come, then.”

He had to force himself not to do something as stupid as preen at the surprised but blatantly appreciative stare he found on Bucky’s wide eyed expression. The rough suppression of outward response didn’t stop the pleased purr in the back of his mind. Steve didn’t let himself linger on _that_ either. The Omega swallowed and then frowned slightly, “They’re dangerous, Steve.”

“So am I,” Steve shrugged, not dismissive of the concerns but not sharing them either. “So’s my Pack. Not usually, and not unless we have damned good reason to be. Not to anyone who hasn’t earned it. I didn’t offer safety lightly, Bucky. I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t something I could guarantee to at least some degree of certainty. As it stands, you’re safe here. As long as you need and as long as you want.”

“Oh,” Bucky said lowly. He was quiet for several long moments, brow furrowed in thought as he stared blankly at the hand Steve still had covering Bucky’s. When he finally raised his eyes and met Steve’s gaze once more, he gave a small, almost timid smile and nodded, “Oh, okay. I’ll--I’ll stay. For now.”

Steve relaxed back into his chair knowing that his presence lightened as he did. The last thing he wanted to do was make Bucky uncomfortable. After hearing the little bit of the story the Omega had willingly shared, Steve wasn’t entirely certain being surrounded by that sort of Alpha presence would be comforting. “Just to be clear,” he said seriously. “If you _want_ to go, I’m certainly not making you stay. You’re entirely in control of your coming and going. But go because you _want to_ not because you feel you _have to_.”

“I know,” Bucky nodded with a small smile. “Thank you.” Steve smiled and got up from the table to put away everything he had taken out to prepare lunch. Bucky stood and followed him, frowning in confusion, “What are you doing?”

“Figured I’d take you on into town,” Steve said. “If you’re set on staying we need to get you some stuff of your own.” Steve paused and studied Bucky before deciding on honesty. “As much as I might like seeing you in my things. I figure you probably want some to call your own.” He couldn’t help the pleased, almost smug grin at the rush of honeysuckle and the lovely pink flush his words caused. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, avoiding meeting Steve’s gaze. “Yeah that might be...nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: We hear from Bucky
> 
> Come say hi on [**Tumblr**](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/alwaysabrighterdarkness) :)


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky hadn’t been sure what to expect when he had woken up in pain, in a strange bed, in a strange room that smelled faintly floral, being tended to by a--very large--strange Alpha. Fear was the first thing to slam into him. Followed almost immediately by the rich earthy scent and deep soothing voice of said strange Alpha. It had been a long time since Bucky had been touched and treated so very carefully. 

The Alpha, Steve, he’d quickly learned was an unusual Alpha. Babbling and rambling, which Bucky found oddly comforting. Stumbling over himself, oftentimes literally. In the week and change that he had been staying in Steve’s care, Bucky watched the bulky Alpha run into the door frames on a daily basis. That wasn’t counting the times he would trip over his own feet or pick something up only for it to break into pieces in his large hands. He quickly began to understand why Steve seemed to have such a massive first aid kit, though he never seemed to actually use it on himself.

The poor man always looked so confused. Each and every time it happened. And then he would duck his head and blush so red that Bucky wasn’t certain how he had blood flowing enough through the rest of his body to remain standing. And rather than getting indignant and offended when Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at the clumsiness, Steve’s scent always took on a pleased tone and he would just grin sheepishly. The man was ridiculous but it was oddly...charming. 

Bucky had been healed enough to manage to be up and around for a day or two by the time Steve finally relented. His palpable concern was touching but Bucky was in desperate need for a clean that couldn’t be achieved with a basin of water and a rag. Suffice to say that the hot shower and clean clothes did as much for Bucky’s state of mind as the week under Steve’s care had done. It didn’t hurt that the clean clothes were quite obviously Steve’s as well. That earthy scent gave him the oddest urge to purr, not that he did. But it might have been a close call that Bucky ruthlessly squashed.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he had done to earn this strange Alpha’s patient care and protection. And apparently that of his Pack. Bucky wasn’t so sure that he believed the latter. Or understood the former. The only thing that Bucky  _ did _ understand is that Steve had yet to harm him, had yet to even attempt to force him into anything, despite having ample opportunity to do so. His home felt safe.  _ Steve _ felt safe. He hadn’t fully digested the idea of thinking of an  _ Alpha _ as  _ safe. _

Bucky decided he would stay. For now, anyway.

Which is how he found himself stepping outside of the house for the first time in over a week. Immediately he was on guard, eyes flickering around the horizon and jumping from potential hiding place to potential hiding place. Bucky jumped just slightly when a broad palm rested lightly at the center of his back. He calmed immediately when the now familiar rich earthy scent reached his nose. He surprised even himself when he relaxed enough to lean into the touch. 

When he glanced up--though only slightly, Bucky realized with a small amount of surprise that he was only slightly shorter than Steve, which truly surprised him, Steve always seemed so much larger--he calmed even further when he recognized the precise way that Steve’s eyes were scanning the property in the same way that Bucky’s own had done. Though Steve’s sentinel study was more precise and analytical. As though running strategies and counter-strategies automatically. Bucky recognized what he thought to be some sort of military background in Steve’s bearing for the first time. 

“I’ll set some traps when we get back to be safe,” Steve said absently. Bucky meant to ask what he meant but was distracted by the way Steve’s hand shifted upwards towards his neck only to drag down to Bucky’s waist and then back up to rest at the center of his back again. He looked back over to Steve, who was still intently studying their surroundings. There was no blushing or awkward grins. There was nothing in his posture or expression to indicate that the marking had been done consciously. 

And Bucky had a strong feeling that had Steve realized what he had done it would have followed the same pattern as their other interactions over the last week. Steve doing something undeniably Alpha, catching himself, and then spending the next hour blushing and apologizing and doing sweet little things to make up for his own perceived oversight. Bucky wondered if Steve realized that he went into what Bucky had come to term ‘Alpha mode’ every time he tended to Bucky’s injuries. He thought not considering Steve never once called himself out on it.

Steve Rogers, Bucky had decided, was a good man but a truly ridiculous Alpha.

Something about the almost painfully shy, awkward interactions had awoken a protectiveness in Bucky that he hadn’t experienced before. Looking at him, he doubted that Steve required physical protection. He carried himself like a man who knew how to handle himself in a fight. Knew his physical strengths, weaknesses, and limitations. 

No, it was under that, the softness that Alphas supposedly weren’t supposed to have that drew Bucky’s protective instincts forward. The softness, the vulnerability of it, Bucky knew how quickly and easily it was for some to find and take advantage of that sort of perceived weakness. He got the impression that Steve wasn’t nearly as protective of himself as he was his Pack or even Bucky, who he’d only just met. His expressions alone were so open and earnest that those soft spots were all but laid bare for anyone who took the time to look for them.

Bucky considered that quietly as he helped Steve ready the horses. When Steve absently let his hand and wrist drag across Bucky’s shoulders when he passed behind him, Bucky decided to test the theory. Before he could pull a way entirely, Bucky returned the contact, resting his hand casually against Steve’s low back. 

Steve froze at the touch, his eyes darting from his own hand on Bucky’s shoulder to Bucky’s curious gaze. His eyes widened and face flushed red and then paled, his scent twisting with anxiety and dread. When he opened his mouth to inevitably apologize, Bucky held his gaze and pointedly let is own hand, still resting on Steve’s back, drag slowly upwards and back down. 

Steve’s mouth snapped shut and he stared wide eyed at Bucky for just long enough that Bucky began to wonder if he’d made a mistake. But then Steve ducked his head in that almost bashful way that he had and gave a shy smile that more than confirmed Bucky’s theories on the Alpha’s unprotected soft side. 

_ Formerly _ unprotected soft side. 

“C’mon, Big Guy, I was promised lunch and a meet and greet,” Bucky said with a small smile of his own. It was easy to feel comfortable and confident in the safety of the barn and Steve’s happy scent. He knew that wouldn’t last when they were out in the open and more vulnerable to unseen threats but Bucky let himself soak it in for the short time that he had it. 

“Oh,” Steve blinked as if startled. “Oh, right.” His hand dropped from Bucky’s shoulder and took a step backwards. With a sheepish smile, Steve returned to the tack room and snatched his own belted holsters from the wall, hands automatically running through the movements of attaching it around his waist and checking the guns in each. He grabbed a small pouch from a peg and a rifle off of another set. The bag was attached to his belt and the rifle to the saddle he had already fitted onto his horse. 

“Why do you keep them in the barn?” Bucky asked curiously.

Steve shrugged, “Usually spend most my time out here. I’ve got some around the house, too. I’ll show you where to find them when we get back.”

“How d’you know if I even know how to shoot?”

Steve eyed him with a small smirk and arched a brow, “The calluses on your hands for starters. Think you’re more of a rifle marksman than pistol but you’ve used both.”

Bucky blinked in surprise but nodded in confirmation, “Yeah give me a high point and I could hit a coin off a can without scratching paint. They-uh-They liked making use of that, actually.”

Steve frowned in understanding that ‘they’ were the Alphas that had taken Bucky. He didn’t press further, though, instead moved forward to assist Bucky in mounting his own horse, which Steve had assured him to be a gentle gelding that wouldn’t startle easily, not that Bucky required either the help or the particularly mild-mannered horse. He accepted both, however, taking in stride Steve's apparent brand of care. 

The ride into town was easy enough. Conversation flowed peacefully though Steve kept his attention roving as they moved, pausing his watch every so often to glance in Bucky’s direction. Before long, Bucky could see the telltale shapes of buildings drawing nearer and he grimaced slightly. His last ‘assignment’ had been so close to this little town. He could have met Steve and his Pack under entirely different circumstances. The ones that had him cared little about bystanders and casualties. And wasn’t that a terrifying thought.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked quietly, drawing his horse closer to Bucky’s.

“I-I hadn’t realized they had sent me so close to your town,” Bucky answered lowly. 

Steve nodded in understanding and reached across the short distance between them, squeezing his shoulder gently. “We’ll need to tell the Pack what’s going on. Extra sets of eyes keeping look out will be safer for everyone.”

Bucky winced but nodded his agreement, “Suppose that would be for the best.”

“I’m sure Tash’ll have some thoughts on it,” Steve said thoughtfully as they drew even with the first row of buildings. Bucky watched as Steve offered smiles and small nods in greetings to the various people who called out in greeting as they passed.

“Popular here?” Bucky said, tone teasing.

Steve shrugged, “It’s the kinda town where everyone knows everyone’s everything anyway. When the Pack and I got into town a couple years ago, they were havin’ some problems with a rowdy group of Alphas causing issues. We took care of it. After that we kinda just became the ones that take care of the town. They take care of us, too.” He dug into the pouch on his belt and withdrew a shining piece of silver. A closer glance let Bucky identify it as a sheriff's badge. 

“Oh,” Bucky blinked in surprise. His mind readjusted to the new information and made his previous realization sink that much heavier. He wouldn’t have just  _ met _ Steve and his Pack. He’d have faced them. Possibly hurt them. He still might if they were able to find him again.

“You’re safe here, Bucky,” Steve’s deep voice interrupted his anxiously spiraling thoughts, his broad hand reaching across the short distance again to touch him just firmly enough to be grounding.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “Just realizin’ how close I was to  _ not _ being safe here.”

“C’mon,” Steve said softly, nudging both of their horses to turn off to the right. He slid off his own mount and tied the reigns before taking Bucky’s and tying his as well. With a fond pat on each horses’ neck, he offered a hand up to help Bucky down. Bucky just smirked in amusement but accepted the assistance.

Bucky looked around curiously as they pushed through the door, taking in the details of the new location eagerly. It was obviously the local tavern. Sturdy tables and chairs scattered around the open space. A long, wide bar set against the back wall with shelves set behind it. It’s clean in a way that most establishments he had been forced to patron hadn’t been. 

It was comforting in the same way that Bucky had begun to recognize in Steve’s home.

“Steve,” called the man standing behind the bar, leaning forward against it with elbows on the bartop. Bucky guesses him to be roughly similar height to Steve and himself, dark skin, well built and an exasperatedly fond expression on his face. “Did you just hit your head on that door? Again?” Bucky turned to see the Alpha sheepishly rubbing the top of his head and he stifled his own laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for pointing it out,” Steve grumbled good-naturedly, blush staining his face once again. 

“When are you finally gonna realize that you’re not five-foot-nothing anymore?” Asked another man seated on a stool on the opposite side of the bar. Shorter, stockier but as well built as Steve and the man behind the bar, swinging his feet idly and kicking the floor beneath the stool until the tiny red headed woman next to him nudged him with her own foot.

“You were short?” Bucky asked with a smirk. “That explains so much.”

Steve shot him a playful glare and rolled his eyes, letting his hand drop from his head. Speaking seemed to have drawn the attention of the trio at the bar as well as Steve and Bucky found four sets of eyes pinned on him as he as Steve reached them. He drew himself nearer to Steve automatically at the weight of the attention.

Steve’s heavy arm lifted to rest across Bucky’s shoulders and tugged him the little bit closer, all but tucking Bucky into his side despite the added challenge of their respective heights in an automatic response to his obvious unease. Maybe it shouldn’t have been comforting, but it was.

“Bucky,” Steve said, squeezing his shoulder gently. “This is Natasha and Clint and that’s Sam.” He gestured to each with his opposite hand with a warm excitement lacing his tone. “This is Bucky.”

“Bucky,” Sam repeated his name with a nod in greeting but there was something, a slight edge to his tone, that Bucky couldn’t quite place. Natasha was watching him intently, studying him in silence. There was the weight of judgement in the intensity of her gaze though her expression gave away nothing as to whether he passed or failed that judgement. The other man, Clint, was...juggling peanuts? But Bucky could see an alertness in the lines of his shoulders that suggested he was only  _ appearing _ distracted.

“Steve,” Natasha said, tone intentionally light and sweet.

“Tash,” Steve responded easily, a slight hint of warning in his own.

“What are you doing?”

Steve paused and sighed then glanced at Bucky, automatically trying to tug him closer before turning his attention back to Natasha. From their current distance, Bucky caught the same floral scent that he recognized from the bedroom he had been using at Steve’s. Must have been Natasha’s room that Steve had set him up in. Bucky supposed that made sense given that they were both obviously Omegas and Bucky would have been less likely to wake up in a panic at the unthreatening scent. 

It didn’t seem quite as unthreatening at the moment, if he was honest. 

“Actually, Tash,” Steve said, sighing and running a ragged hand through his hair. “We might have a problem. Your type of problem.” He shifted his gaze around the room, noting the small handful of regulars in attendance and then met the attention of the other three evenly. He shifted his arm from across Bucky’s shoulder down to his waist, directing him to the empty stool beside Clint and then took the one directly beside it. The arrangement meant that Bucky was placed in the center, surrounded by Steve’s Pack, bracketed on either side by what he could now recognize as two Alphas, rich earth and woodsmoke--a warm summer night around a warm fire, something he vaguely remembered from his childhood. A protective placement. Or it would have been, had Bucky been one of them. He could tell that the placement didn’t go unnoticed by the other three.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Steve speculatively before shifting the calculating stare to Bucky. Something like comprehension crossed her face before her expression went blank once more. “Tell me,” she said with even insistence.

“Bucky?” Steve encouraged.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, yay! So, going forward, the posting schedule for this story is going to be Sundays and Wednesdays. Today's was a little late but I kinda broke down on the side of the highway so I'm cutting myself a bit of slack.
> 
> Feel free to pop on over and say hello on [**Tumblr**](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/alwaysabrighterdarkness). Ask questions about the story and check out some of the other stuff I've got bouncing around :)
> 
> Anywho, here we go!

For a moment, Bucky’s mind shut down and clammed up. It was one thing to confess the sordid details to Steve in the proven safety of the Alpha’s home. It was something entirely different to admit everything to a trio of clearly judgemental strangers in an unfamiliar environment. Not only that, but Bucky was intimately familiar with how a would-be protective placement could be equally confining and restricting. How he could sit in a circle of Alphas and Betas and  _ seem _ safe but be the exact opposite. 

Something of his fear must have etched into his scent because he felt a now-familiar broad palm stroking soothingly up and down his back. Another, unfamiliar hand rested cautiously on his shoulder and Bucky’s eyes snapped up to meet Sam’s concerned dark ones. “Easy,” Sam said calmly. “We can’t help if we don’t know what we’re helping with. Steve seems to think you gotta story that needs to be told. Whether or not we know or trust you is irrelevant right now because we trust  _ him _ .”

Bucky studied him hesitantly for a moment before glancing to Clint, who had stopped juggling the peanuts and leaned casually against the bartop, elbows propped on either side of him and then to Natasha.  _ She _ hadn’t relaxed her posture at all so far as Bucky could tell and returned his study impassively.

“Right,” Bucky said under his breath and for the second time in the same day, he gathered his nerve. Leaning back into Steve’s touch just slightly, Bucky retold the same words he had given Steve hours earlier. He told as much as he could remember, including some of the details that he had left out when confiding in Steve previously. Though there were still things he couldn’t linger on, couldn’t put to words. Not now, not yet. 

It was exhausting but he got through it, staring at his own twisting fingers the entire time, avoiding meeting the gaze of Steve’s Pack. When he finally drew to the end of the sordid tale, waking up in the bedroom at Steve’s house, everyone else remained silent. After a long moment without a word being spoken, Bucky risked a glance upwards. 

Steve and Natasha were having a seemingly silent conversation by way of stare-down. He couldn’t read Natasha’s expression to save his life and there was an intensity in Steve’s that he’d yet to witness. Clint had tilted his head backward and was staring at the ceiling, which Bucky found odd, but that line of tension remained in the man’s shoulders that indicated he wasn’t as idly distracted as he presented. Clint suddenly leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees and hands laced together, a thoughtful frown on his face. Glancing over Sam was...Sam was sliding a drink across the bartop, stopping in front of Bucky.

Bucky smiled slightly in thanks, unwilling yet to break the silence that had fallen. Sam nodded in return before shifting his attention to Steve as though waiting patiently for the unspoken conversation to reach its conclusion.

“You said there was an explosion?” Natasha questioned suddenly. 

Bucky snapped his attention back to meet hers and he nodded slowly. “I was pretty disoriented after the blast but it couldn’t have been more than a few miles away. Two, maybe three at most. North, I think.”

Natasha nodded, eyes narrowing in thought, “The one before that? Do you remember where it was?”

“A day to the east,” Bucky answered after a moment of consideration. “We had to rush to make the one that went wrong. They weren’t happy about it but it wasn’t something they blamed  _ me _ for at least.”

Natasha shifted to meet Steve’s gaze again, “I need to do some digging. Reach out to some of my old friends.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “That’s what I was thinking. We need to spread the word here in town for folks to keep their eyes open for unfamiliar faces. D’you think…” Steve let’s the sentence hang.

She hummed noncommittally and shrugged one shoulder, “It sounds like it could be.”

Bucky frowned slightly in confusion, glancing between the pair. A quick look at Sam and Clint proved that they’re not really following the conversation either though they seemed considerably less bothered by it. Bucky imagined that it was because they’re used to the odd way that the pair communicated.

Natasha suddenly pinned Bucky with a sharp look and he jerked slightly in surprise at the sudden attention, “Anything more you remember, you tell me.”

“Tash,” Steve said exasperatedly.

“What?” She blinked innocently. “I need to know these things, Steve.”

“He doesn’t know you like we do, Tash,” Clint said with a small smile that turned immediately into a grimace when the woman’s sharp elbow jabbed into his side. “ _ Natasha _ ,” he corrected. 

“Yeah, not everyone knows that’s you asking nicely,” Sam said with a grin.

“That  _ was _ me asking nicely,” Natasha said, brow arched as though it should have been completely obvious.

Bucky didn’t think it was really all that obvious but it sounded like they were willing to help. So maybe he could deal with the abrupt personality that went along with her help. He hid his mild discomfort behind a deep drink from the glass Sam had passed him. 

“What’s the plan until we get this straightened out?” Natasha asked idly.

“Figured we’d get him some stuff of his own for the meantime,” Steve answered with a shrug. “He can stay out at the house.”

Natasha tilted her head slightly, that intense stare Bucky had felt a couple of times already was now pinned to Steve. Bucky watched the exchange curiously. He could see the deep flush slowly creep up over Steve’s neck, ears, and onto his face but he held under the weight of that stare. Natasha’s eyes narrowed and Steve set his jaw.

“Steve,” she said, pointedly.

“Natasha,” Steve echoed her tone.

Bucky looked to Sam and Clint in hopes of some sort of clarification. Sam just shook his head and shrugged before busying himself behind the bar. Bucky got the impression that, despite the civility the Beta man had exhibited, Sam hadn’t decided his opinion on Bucky just yet. That was fine. Right? Mentally shrugging, Bucky turned his attention back to the silent stare-down.

Natasha huffed and rolled her eyes, sliding off of her stool. She made the handful of steps around Clint and Bucky to stand next to Steve. The Alpha’s expression softened, though that set of his jaw didn’t budge an inch, and he tugged her into his side in an affectionate hug, his forehead resting against her temple and arm snug around her back. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, quietly enough that Bucky could just barely make out the words as she leaned into the embrace.

“Nope, that’s not my job anymore,” Steve said softly with a teasing grin. “Clint took that one over for me.”

“You’re an idiot, Rogers,” She said, shaking her head and withdrawing from his hold.

“Love you too, Tash,” Steve responded and then his expression softened once more. “Be safe.”

“You too,” Natasha countered, something pointed in her tone.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her gently. Natasha arched a brow and gave a wry smile before squaring her shoulders and leaving the tavern. Presumably to talk to the old friends that she had mentioned. There was a lot about that exchange that Bucky wasn’t able to keep up with, wasn’t able to understand. 

Once she was gone, Steve shifted his attention back to the other men. “We should probably take off too. Get the errands out of the way. Needing anything while I’m headed that way?”

“Nah, thinking I might swing by later though,” Sam answered. “That’s still good, right?”

Steve frowned and tilted his head in apparent confusion, “Of course. Anytime, you know that.”

Sam eyed Bucky for a short moment and then nodded to Steve, “I’ll bring dinner. Clint’ll bring drinks. We’ll bring enough for everyone.”

“I will?” Clint asked, eyes wide. 

Sam smirked and ignored the protest, “We’ll head out that way when I shut this place down.”

“Sounds good,” Steve grinned happily. He got to his feet and tugged Sam into a hug, much like the one he had given Natasha including the gentle, affectionate scenting. The gentleness of the act seemed to both amuse and ground the Beta. He then repeated the gesture with Clint as well, though holding it long enough for Clint to squirm and then ruffling his hair. Clint grumbled made to shove Steve off of him which led to several moments of playful scuffling between the pair. 

The affection that Steve felt for his Pack was clear as day to Bucky and it was just as obvious that they all returned the regard without question or hesitation. The touchy approach that Steve had automatically assumed with Bucky now made a lot more sense, though, seeing how they interacted. He wondered if Natasha, Sam, and Clint were naturally tactile themselves or if they had simply adapted to it and to Steve. 

Bucky had a feeling that it was the latter. 

Steve and Clint finally detangled and Steve was grinning brightly. He tugged the other Alpha into another quick hug and clapped him firmly on the shoulder. Clint grimaced slightly and huffed, “Easy, man. You’re not no twig, there’s force behind those hits.”

“Sorry, Clint,” Steve said sheepishly, though his joy didn’t seem to dim in the least at the light chidding. “I’ll see you guys in a coupla hours.” He draped his arm across Bucky’s shoulders once more and guided him back towards the doors. That was right, they’d come to town for more than just Bucky’s story. He remembered, just then, that he was still in Steve’s borrowed clothing and felt the back of his neck heat ever so slightly. 

“Behave yourself, Rogers,” Sam called after them.

“Always do,” Steve grinned.

“Yeah, we both know that’s a big ol’ lie,” Sam scoffed. “Pretty sure even your boy there knows that’s a lie already.”

“I’ve been perfectly behaved, I’ll have you know. Just ask ‘im,” Steve insisted with a grin, spinning on his heels to walk backwards a few steps, something Bucky was certain was a terrible idea considering the multitude of injuries the Alpha had given himself over the past week simply due to lack of coordination. Bucky grimaced at the thought and used the arm between them to catch a hold of Steve’s shirt, steering him around tables and chairs. 

“Perfect gentleman,” Bucky commented absently, using his grip to tug Steve to the side before he backed directly into the door frame that he’d hit his head on previously. 

“Steve Rogers is  _ always _ a gentleman,” Sam said with a dismissive shrug and then rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t mean he’s well-behaved.”

They let the door swing close behind them, though Bucky did have to tug once again to keep it from swinging directly into Steve’s grinning face. This Alpha was a mess. So very focused on taking care of everyone around him that he kept none of that attention for himself. Bucky felt that warm, protectiveness instinct flare up once again. 

Steve turned back around to face forward, his arm resting heavily but comfortingly across Bucky’s shoulders and Bucky let himself be tucked into his warm side as they made their way through the town on foot. By the time they finished with their errands, Bucky had a couple sets of his own clothes and a few other personal items. He really did need to find away to pay him back for the kindness that Bucky still wasn’t convinced that he deserved. 

Bucky easily pulled himself up onto the horse before Steve had the opportunity to offer to help. Steve blinked and a small frown tugged at his expression before it softened and he grinned sheepishly, turning bashfully to mount his own. The ride back to the house was considerably calmer than the one into town though they both kept a cautious eye on their surroundings. 

When they made it back to the barn, Steve eyed him consideringly and nudged him over to sit on the bales while he took care of the horses. Bucky hadn’t realized until he was seated just how tired the trip had made him. A week of healing preceded by weeks,  _ months _ , of fear and pain had taken its toll on him and while the trip had been necessary it was also wearing. He let himself tip backwards to lay on the hay bale, eyes falling closed with a quiet sigh. 

“Bucky,” a soft, deep voice drew his attention, a gentle hand brushing hair from his face. Bucky blinked his eyes open groggily to stare confusedly up at Steve hovering over him. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t meant to but maybe his body hadn’t been as ready for the added strain as he had thought. Steve just smiled softly and shift back to his full height, offering his hand to help Bucky to his feet. Bucky grumbled and made to sit up, reaching outward to accept Steve’s hand up. “C’mon, sweetheart, you can nap more back at the house ‘til the others get here.”

Bucky shook his head but stumbled unsteadily on his feet, scowling slightly at Steve’s sympathetic chuckle. He slumped sideways into Steve’s side as he led Bucky across the open property between the barn and the house. Steve deposited him on the couch nearest to the fireplace, crouching to remove Bucky’s boots and toss them back towards the door and draping the blanket from the back of the couch over Bucky. He barely felt the light brush of fingertips against his cheek. Barely heard the quiet chuckle of amusement. The day caught up with Bucky and he curled into the softness of the couch and blanket, both carrying Steve’s earthy scent that he had begun to associate with safety and let himself succumb to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Sam chimes in :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Chapter up :) 
> 
> I hope everyone's having a wonderful week!
> 
> Come say hello on [**Tumblr**](https://alwaysabrighterdarkness.tumblr.com/)!

Sam could admit that he was a little unsure what to expect when he approached the house. He and Clint had already settled their horses and set them to the open pasture where Steve’s were already out grazing. They didn’t rush towards the door, taking an easy pace instead. They climbed the handful of stairs and Sam had to grin ruefully at the obvious indication of the handle having been broken and repaired multiple times. Someday Steve would get a handle on the skin he was living in, a comfort in the strength that he possessed. But clearly that day had not yet passed.

He couldn’t help the amused chuckle and he nodded indicatively to Clint who grinned, sharing in the amusement. They didn’t bother knocking. They never did. The few times that they  _ had  _ knocked had led to Steve attempting to lecture them about how unnecessary it was for them to do so. It was theirs too, wasn’t it? He’d been so earnest and sincere that all three of them hadn’t been able to do anything but take him at his word. Unsurprisingly, it was Natasha that seemingly found it easiest to take it at face value and make herself at home.

None of them knocked anymore. It made Steve happy, who were they to complain?

The thing was, Sam had no idea what to expect now, though. What with this random Omega just so having to have found himself in Steve’s barn and therefore under Steve’s protection. Sam knew,  _ they all knew, _ just how seriously Steve took that sort of thing. How close to the heart he took that responsibility. And  _ that _ right there was why Sam found himself concerned.

Because Steve was strong, physically. Sam had witnessed many occasions where the Alpha should have been outnumbered and overrunned but managed to push through with only a handful of bruises to show for it. Physically, when Steve Rogers set his mind to something it was best to just get out of his way lest you find yourself caught in the whirlwind of force. Especially if in protection of someone else, whether Steve knew them or not. That never mattered. 

But Steve...Steve was more vulnerable than he would ever truly allow himself to admit. Too many times Sam had witnessed him crumble under the weight of emotional hurt. He saw the best in people even when they didn’t act on their best or the best for him. Steve would put everyone’s well being before his own, that was doubly true when it was someone he loved. It was something that Sam had learned early on in their friendship, well before the Pack was even a thought. It was the  _ foundation _ of what brought Sam and Natasha, specifically, to become Pack. Because Steve Rogers wouldn’t look out for himself. He didn’t think to protect that vulnerability, didn’t seem to realize that it  _ was  _ a vulnerability. That he didn’t  _ deserve _ to be systematically hurt and discarded.

So they did it for him.

So it was safe to say that Sam came prepared to observe. To see what sort of potential risk this new addition might hold for their big-hearted Alpha. He and Clint both came to the house that evening for dinner with the understanding that they very well might have to chase off this strange Omega with an interesting story...and that they might have to push back against Steve to do so. Because if this  _ Bucky Barnes _ was in anyway a danger to that soft heart that Steve Rogers offered up all too easily, Sam Wilson wouldn’t think twice about removing said threat.

What he  _ didn’t  _ expect to see, however, was Steve sitting at the table, head ducked repentently, while the Omega-- _ Bucky, because Steve would have plenty to say about utilizing designation as term of reference, especially once they’ve been introduced-- _ stood over him. Steve’s chin was carefully held in the other man’s grasp while the other hand tended to what looked to be a minor head wound. Likely due to the Alpha’s inability to find his feet on good days. From their position by the door, Sam beared witness to Bucky venting and chewing out their Alpha. 

“You use this whole damn thing on me yet you don’t even think that  _ just maybe _ you might take care of yourself with it too?” Bucky groused waving indicatively at the first aid kit spilling out over the tabletop. Despite the scolding, his hands were noticeably gentle, one carefully cupping Steve’s jaw, tilting his face to a better angle and the other cleaning the wound.

“You’re  _ insane _ ,” he said with a touch of heat. “You said you’ve lived here for  _ how many _ years--that you  _ built _ this house--and yet you  _ still _ don’t remember where your door frames are or how high each step goes? Or where the damned barn door is, for that matter? How is that even a  _ thing?” _

“I know,” Steve answered slightly sullenly. “I forget s’all.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with an amused snort. “I’ve kinda noticed that.”

It was a little uncomfortable, if Sam was honest, seeing the way Steve and Bucky looked at one another after, what a  _ week  _ in each others presence. There was a fondness and a softness that, rather than comforting him, put Sam’s hackles right up. Because Sam had seen this song and dance before. He’d been left to pick up the pieces and pull Steve back to his feet when the other person inevitably decided they’d gotten whatever they were after and left Steve shredded in their wake. He sure as hell wasn’t going to sit back and watch it happen again, no matter what this guy’s story was. 

Protective instincts were screaming and snarling in the back of his mind, wanting this strange Omega out, out,  _ out _ . Realistically, Sam knew that Steve wouldn’t hear of it. Not until whatever threat Steve had taken it upon himself to offer the man protection from was neutralized. That was all that Sam needed to know to throw in his assistance. One, Steve--and seemingly Natasha--thought the threat was credible and Sam wouldn’t wish that man’s story on anyone. But also, the sooner it was dealt with, the sooner Steve’s kind, selfless, but so very vulnerable heart would be safe again, too.

“Rogers, what the hell did you do to yourself this time?” Sam called through the open room, announcing he and Clint’s presence.

Steve and Bucky both startled slightly. Steve pulled his face from Bucky’s grip to turn and face them with a bright, welcoming grin on his face. “You made it,” he stated cheerfully.

“Told you we’d be here,” Clint returned, navigating around the furniture and making his way toward the kitchen with Sam following behind. 

Sam dropped his armful of supplies onto the countertop and moved towards the pair at the table. With a desperate need to further separate the contact between Steve and Bucky, Sam moved towards the table and carefully stepped between them, his presence nudging Bucky out of the way just enough, and took Steve’s face in his own grip, tilting it upwards towards the light. With a low whistle and a grin, he shook his head in amusement, “What are you doing to yourself?”

“Ah,” Steve winced and red stole over his face in his embarrassment. “See, I was straightening up before you guys got here. Just the normal stuff, you know. I might’ve...gotten distracted?”

“Of course you did,” Sam rolled his eyes in fond amusement. He looked over the split skin at the right side of his forehead near his temple. It wasn’t the worst Steve had managed to do to himself but it wasn’t pretty either. “So what’d you break with your big ol’ hard head this time?”

“The-uh-might’ve turned too quickly and caught it on the front door frame?” Steve hedged with a guilty grin.

“Shouldn’t need more than something to keep the dirt out of it. Looks like it’s already pretty well clean.” Sam shifted, turning slightly to study the contents of the first aid kit that Banner had all but forced onto Steve months ago. 

“Got one right here,” Bucky said stiltedly, the small piece of folded bandage in his palm extended towards Sam.

“Right,” Sam said with a quick, forced smile, taking it and carefully fixing it over the sluggishly bleeding head wound. “It’ll probably ache like hell tomorrow but you’ll live.”

“Good to know,” Steve smirked leaning back more comfortably into the chair now that the examination was clearly over. 

“Do we need to do any repair work on the door?” Clint asked from where he was seated perched on the countertop.

“I...don’t think so?” Steve frowned thoughtfully. “I really didn’t take the time to check.”

“You weren’t joking in asking what he broke with his head, were you?” Bucky asked, tone both surprised and amused.

“Wouldn’t be the first time hitting his head put splits in the wood,” Clint smirked with a casual shrug. “It’ll hold for the night. We’ll check it out in the morning before we head back to town.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve said dismissively. “My hard head causing the damage, I’ll fix it.”

“And end up with a repeat of the last time you got all handyman-Mister-Fixit? The bandages and the brand new window in the middle of the wall?” Sam argued tone slightly caustic, brow arched pointedly. “Yeah, no. Clint and I’ll handle it.”

Steve was suddenly glaring darkly in a way that was just shy of a snarl, his posture stiffened, scent sharpening, and body language just as suddenly all Alpha. It took Sam a fair bit of effort to hold his ground against that glare. He knew that Steve had issues with being coddled or treated carefully. It was one facet of the man that the Pack had learned to play carefully. Finding ways to work around that prickly pride of his. But even their sometimes careful treatment of the man didn’t usually garner that deep of a glare.

“Stop giving him the stink eye, Rogers,” Clint said lightly, pushing off the counter. “Takes nothing for us to take a peek and do some patch work before we had back in.”

The large man seemed to settle ever so slightly at the words but still eyed Sam a little more cooly that he had initially. “Sure, Clint,” he said, tone unusually even. It was only knowing him as long as he had that allowed Sam to hear the combination of hurt and anger in those two short words.

Sam sighed inwardly and stepped backwards, instinctively ceding ground to his insulted Alpha. Maybe that comment had come too close to insinuating that Steve was incapable. Incapable of maintaining his home, which was in all reality  _ their _ home. For all intents and purposes, the house that the Pack had built with their own hands that Steve put his all into keeping up and running, was  _ their home _ , their  _ den _ . Their safe place. And Sam had, albeit in an attempt to protect him from further injury, suggested that Steve wasn’t able to maintain their home. 

Okay, so maybe that glare was just a little bit deserved.

“Steve,” Bucky spoke quietly but insistently from behind Sam, the tell-tale sweetness of Omega calm seeping lightly but steadily into the space between them. “I don’t think he meant it like that. I know I’m the new guy around here but even  _ I _ can see that. They  _ know _ you’re capable.”

Sam nodded to Bucky with reluctant gratitude when Steve’s glare and stiff posture eased just slightly. “That’s not what I was saying, Steve,” Sam confirmed. “You know me better than that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you.”

Bucky eyed Sam oddly for a brief moment--Sam didn’t know the man well enough to read the expression--before stepping around him, careful not to touch and began putting the first aid kit back together. He paused for a moment before resting a hand on Steve’s wrist, squeezing gently. When Steve shifted his attention from staring down Sam to meet Bucky’s gaze, his expression softened and the tightly wound tension in his frame eased. He quirked a tired little half smile before turning back to Sam, this time without any heat remaining.

Steve pushed himself out of the chair and to his feet. Sam watched the movement warily until Steve’s hand rose up, cupping the back of his neck and tugging him forward until his head was pressed into Steve’s shoulder. Sam felt his own posture sag as he accepted the affection and the passive marking. It was, on an instinctive level, apologies and forgiveness given and accepted. And just that easily, they were on even ground again because Sam knew Steve and he knew that Steve wasn’t the sort to continue pushing and bringing up things once they had been handled.

He felt a firm pat on his back and was jostled when Steve tugged Clint in the same manner and he couldn’t help the small grin when Clint grumbled at the manhandling. It wasn’t a serious grumble or offense taken, they’d learned one another well enough over the years to tell the difference. When Steve released them with a smile as warm as the one they were initially greeted with, Sam returned it.

Steve stepped backwards and glanced around with a furrow of confusion between his brows. He scanned the room quickly before coming to rest in the general direction of the kitchen and his expression relaxed again. Sam followed the gaze curiously, finding Bucky working through the kitchen, putting away the supplies that Clint and he had brought while simultaneously setting out what would be needed for dinner enough for all of them. The amount of comfort in the space that the man displayed, how well he knew what went where and where he could find what he needed, caused apprehension to twist in Sam’s gut but he did his best to keep it hidden.

Clint met his gaze wearily and nodded once in understanding, breaking from their small group to approach. “So what’s the plan?” he chirped easily, hoping back onto the countertop.

Bucky eyed him speculatively before offering a small, slightly subdued shrug, “Just tryin’ to help. Need me out of the way?”

_ Yes _ , Sam couldn’t help but think, wincing inwardly when Steve moved towards the kitchen as well. “No, you’re fine, Buck,” the big Alpha soothed calmly. “Let me help get this all heated up. Clint, you wanna get drinks for everyone?” 

“Aye ‘Cap,” Clint said with a  _ very _ poor attempt at a salute. He didn’t bother dropping from the counter, just reached above his head to pull down the needed glassware and then shifting to reach for the large tankards that Sam had topped off before they left the tavern. 

Sam could see Bucky eye Steve’s head injury hesitantly for a long moment, seemingly debating whether to accept the help or insist that Steve go sit and relax, before sighing and complying, setting to putting the meal together with Steve helping where he could. They seemed to work well together, working around one another and in each other’s space like it was completely natural for them to do so. It was odd for Sam to see someone new fitting so easily into Steve’s bubble.

“Sam, get the dishes down?” Steve asked, glancing up casually from the food preparation. “It won’t be done for a bit yet but no sense waiting.”

And then Sam was a part of that synchronicity. There were still missing pieces to the way the four of them worked through preparing for a simple dinner like a well-oiled machine but that was to be expected considering Natasha’s noticeable absence. And Sam knew that the absence was felt by the way that both Steve and Clint--and even Sam, himself--kept eyeing the front door, expecting it to swing open and the tiny redhead to push her way into that empty space lingering between them all. That she was out and snooping around a potentially dangerous situation clearly grated on all of them, no matter how capable she was.

“Is she coming?” Steve asked a short while later once Sam had been tugged into the food prep portion, he, Bucky and Steve working seamlessly together.

“Not sure,” Clint frowned, looking intently into the glass in his hands. “I think she’ll be here if she can.”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed noncommittally. Sam could see the tick in his jaw and the tension in his shoulders and automatically leaned sideways until their shoulders pressed together in support. Somehow, even without having to look, he could tell his comforting movement was mirrored on Steve’s opposite side by Bucky. Despite his current suspicion and dislike for the man, Sam couldn’t help but be a little grateful for the help in keeping the big Alpha grounded. That was usually Natasha’s role, when she was around to do it. She seemed to be able to keep the man calm and grounded all while calling him a big idiot, to which Steve would just grin happily. 

“She’s tough, Steve,” Sam said quietly. “I know you know that. She might be small but she’s tougher than anyone in this house put together. She’ll be okay.”

Steve’s lips quirked into a small smile and he bobbed his head in a slight nod, “Yeah. She is. Still don’t like--”

“We know,” Clint stopped him and met his stare evenly. “Think I like it any more than you do?”

Steve’s expression softened in understanding and he wiped his hands clean on a towel before reaching across the counter to squeeze Clint’s shoulder. His smile turned cheeky, “Don’t worry, Clint, she’ll come around eventually.”

“I’m not worrying about that right now,” Clint denied, unsuccessfully at that. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Sunday has arrived and I've actually managed to get this one up early in the day! I hope that you enjoy it :) Feel free to let me know what you think and/or come say hi on Tumbler where you can find me as [AlwaysABrighterDarkness](https://alwaysabrighterdarkness.tumblr.com/).
> 
> See you again on Wednesday!

They had just settled the finished food onto the table and began dishing it out onto plates when Natasha appeared in her usual chair. The Pack was well used to her sneaky antics and just flashed relieved smiles at her appearance. Sam watched Bucky freeze slightly before relaxing after seeing everyone else take it in stride. He was adaptable at least, Sam would give him that. 

Later, once the food was finished off and leftovers put away, they settled into the couches and chairs scattered throughout the living room encircling the crackling fireplace. Sam saw, with no small amount of satisfaction, Natasha stare down Bucky until he detoured from the spot at Steve’s left on the couch and she settled into what was her usual spot, curled against Steve’s side. Steve caught sight of Bucky’s retreat and shifted until he could toss a couple spare pillows and cushions onto the floor leaving room enough on the couch to his right. Bucky had ducked his head almost shyly as he accepted the offered seat.

Once they settled, Steve tipped his head down to meet Natasha’s gaze, “Find anything, Tash?”

“There’s talk going around that there’s been Omega’s being reported missing in nearby towns,” Natasha sighed. “There’s never witnesses. No one seems to see them go, they just don’t show up for their normal routines.”

“Anything like that happen here so far?” Sam asked.

“Not that I’ve heard so far,” Natasha replied. “Granted, I’ve only done light canvassing so far. I don’t want to tip anyone off what we know in case they’ve already got plants in town. I’m betting they do considering they’ve been working all around Vine Valley, it’s inevitable that we’re on the list of future marks.”

The sudden sharp bitterness of fear cut through the room and Sam’s eyes snapped in concern toward Bucky who was visibly shaking, eyes wide.

“Buck?” Steve said softly turning from Natasha to the man on his other side. 

“I didn’t...I didn’t even think of that,” Bucky sputtered. “If they’re in town already. If they’re there. We were there. They know I survived, Steve, they would have  _ seen us  _ there!”

“And what did I tell you?” Steve asked gently. “You’re safe here. Yes, they might have seen you. They might know where you are but I can assure you that you are safe. They’re not gonna get to you here. I won’t let them.”

“You don’t,” he shook his head sharply, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and face buried in his hands. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to us,” Clint said evenly. “Explain what we don’t understand?”

“They kidnap, buy, and sell Omegas,” Bucky said sharply, fear combining with anger. “Alpha’s and Beta’s? You three? You don’t have that concern. You’re  _ safe _ . Do you...do you even have an  _ idea _ what they do to the ones they take? If--If they’re lucky, there’s already a buyer in the works. Those Omegas? They’re safe from...from the worst of it. Because buyers don’t want  _ damaged _ Omegas. But those of us that are just for  _ stock _ ? I-I-I was lucky, too. For the most part. I might be an Omega but I’m male so-so they left  _ me _ alone. But I was still  _ there _ and couldn’t do a goddamned thing.. _. _ Just because they didn’t...they didn’t touch me  _ like that _ ...Do you even...Do you even  _ understand _ ...” Bucky shot a pained look in Natasha’s direction, his mouth snapping shut with an audible click and Sam had to swallow around bitter bile on his tongue as what Bucky was describing became clearer.

Steve’s hand slowly stroked up and down his back against the rising tension. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t know what that’s like. I couldn’t know. What I  _ do _ know is that we’re gonna stop them, Bucky. Not just for you but to stop them from hurting anyone else like they’ve hurt you.”

“It’s not just these guys though,” Bucky protested. “It’s a whole  _ system _ .”

“Then we’ll dismantle the whole system,” Natasha cut in suddenly, expression vicious. “We’ll stop these ones and then we’ll burn the whole network to the ground.”

Bucky blinked in surprise, the jolt pulling him suddenly from his fear and anger as he stared blankly at her, “You really think that’s possible?”

Natasha’s lips quirked into an oddly knowing smirk, “I think we’re well motivated to make it possible.”

“And until then,” Steve said quietly, refusing to break the current stride. “You’re safe and we’ll carefully put word out in town and make sure everyone there is kept safe too.”

Bucky was still staring at Natasha, his head tilted and eyes narrowed slightly as though trying to place a stray thought. Natasha held the stare easily and after a moment cocked one brow in question or challenge, Sam couldn’t be sure which. He couldn’t read her nearly as well as Steve seemed to be able to. Slowly Bucky nodded once to her and his expression eased. Steve automatically tucked him protectively into his side, arm draped comfortingly across his shoulders.

Steve’s other hand came up to gently nudge Natasha’s chin until she looked up at him. They spoke one of those conversations that only pairs as close as they were could have without a single word spoken. They all seemed to have that ability to some extent, having grown to know one another as well as they had but Steve and Natasha’s connection struck a more familial, Sam would go as far as to say a true sibling bond in addition to being established Pack. That Steve had a heart big enough to love them all unconditionally was a fact that Sam knew unquestioningly. That Natasha held her own special place in said large heart was equally undeniable. 

When she smiled softly and Steve gave a slow nod, Sam felt tension flee the room almost immediately. Steve shifted his attention back to the room at large, “We’ll need to keep on our toes until this concludes. We’re following Tash’s lead on this one. Keep eyes and ears out for plants when you’re in town but don’t engage them unless they make a move. Let’s not tip our hands before we have to.”

“We might have to try to draw them,” Natasha hedged. “The longer we wait, the more likely they are to make their moves in other towns.”

Steve tilted his head thoughtfully before bobbing his head in tentative agreement, “What did you have in mind, Tash?” When she hesitated noticeably, Steve quirked a brow questioningly and smirked teasingly. “Told you, we’re following your lead here so lay out your plan, Boss.”

“We need you back to work,” she said, shooting him a flat glare at the moniker. “You two need to be seen in town if we’re going to draw them out.”

“You want to use Barnes as bait,” Sam asked, brows shooting high in surprise.

“Never on your own,” Natasha was quick to reassure the other Omega, meeting his gaze evenly. “I don’t think I could convince Steve to go for that if I tried. Which I’m not. You need to be with one of us four at all times when you’re in town but you  _ need _ to be seen in town for this to work.”

“One suggestion,” Clint interjected. At Natasha’s questioning look he winced pre-emptively but plowed on regardless. “Bucky should be with one of the  _ three  _ of us at all times. We  _ know _ you’re capable, Natasha, but if these guys are as dirty as you’re suggesting then two Omega’s out and about together is only going to up the risk. Hate me if you want but that’s not a risk I’m comfortable taking.”

“He’s right, Tash,” Steve said solemnly, regretfully. She met his gaze again and then Clint and Sam’s. Her shoulders dropped from the defensive hold she had initially taken at the suggestion and she sighed, nodding reluctantly in agreement to the concession.

They discussed the plan in further detail, as few details as there were. That was the hardest part for Sam to wrap his head around. Aside from Bucky, they didn’t know their enemy. They might as well be trying to catch air for all they actually knew. But Natasha’s confidence in the situation had a way of easing that discomfort. Even with only the bare details she had to give, her tone held surety that this was something they could do, a threat they could neutralize. That she had taken Bucky’s battle on as her own struck Sam as odd but he figured that, perhaps being Omega herself it  _ was _ her battle as well.

Eventually a comfortable silence fell over the room and they fell into the old habit of just enjoying each other's company. Natasha had shifted from leaning against Steve to reclining against the arm of the couch with her small feet in his lap, his large hand pressing carefully into her arches. Bucky had fallen asleep, still tucked against Steve’s opposite side. Sam and Clint sprawled comfortably but inelegantly across the second couch. Clint’s eyes were closed but Sam didn’t think he was actually sleeping. It was good, though, to see he and Natasa both comfortable enough to relax and let their guards down. 

Steve somehow offered that sort of security. Sam was nearly positive that the man had no real concept of the sense of peace he contributed to the Pack. It made his earlier misspoken words echo guiltily in Sam’s mind. 

“Are you guys staying?” Steve asked, slight hesitation lacing the words.

“Thought that was the plan?” Clint asked without bothering to open his eyes.

Steve smiled softly but Sam could see the relief beneath the expression. He could empathize, this plan they had going was so tenuous that it had them all on edge. He didn’t want any of them out of his sight either, he could only imagine what Steve’s raging protective streak felt like in the face of it. “Your rooms are all set. Tash, I cleaned up and aired yours out.” Natasha’s brow flicked upward just slightly but she otherwise didn’t react.

“Where’d you put him up?” Sam asked curiously. “He was using Natasha’s room, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, glancing down at the sleeping man. “When I first brought him in, I figured waking up in a room that scented like another Omega would feel safer than were I to put him anywhere else.”

“Where is he set up now?” Clint repeated Sam’s initial question.

“I’ll put him up in mine for tonight,” Steve shrugged. “I’ll crash down here and we’ll talk it out more tomorrow. No sense waking him for that silly of a conversation tonight.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you bunked with one of us, Steve,” Sam pointed out in offering.

“Nah, thanks but…” Steve’s expression tightened and he glanced away from them, drifting around the room almost idly. “I was gonna suggest that I stay down here tonight anyway. Everything that’s goin’ on...I need to be down here.”

Sam followed his gaze to the door and then to the windows and he suddenly understood. That aforementioned protective instinct was clearly rearing its head and Steve needed to be the first line with all his Pack in residence. Sam was positive that if even Clint, as another Alpha, offered to stay downstairs with him and keep the watch, Steve would automatically and instinctively shut that down as politely as he could possibly manage. 

Anyone coming through that front door unwelcome while the Pack was sleeping upstairs would be walking right into an enraged, overprotective Alpha with protective instincts on overdrive. 

“If you say so,” Sam conceded once his thoughts settled. “Need help getting him upstairs?”

“No, I got him,” he said quietly. Steve affectionately squeezed Natasha’s feet before shifting them off of his lap, shifting until he could scoop Bucky up into his arms, one under his knees and the other curling around his back to keep him close. One by one the Pack followed him up the stairs. They hung outside of Steve’s room while he lowered Bucky onto his bed, crouching to remove his shoes, and then tucking him carefully under the blankets.

When he stepped back into the hallway, pulling the bedroom door closed behind him, Steve offered a small smile. He reached out and gently pulled Natasha to him hugging her tightly, her arms slipped easily around his waist and matched his intensity. Well, as well as anyone can match the intensity of someone like Steve Rogers. 

“Please be careful, Tash,” he spoke softly enough that Sam could barely catch the words but urgently. “You gotta be safe. This...this plan isn’t worth you not coming home after it’s done.”

“I’ll be careful,” Natasha promised with a small smile. 

Steve smiled affectionately in response and kissed her forehead lightly before releasing her from the hug. He shifted his attention to Clint and tilted his head, “Clint--”

“Yeah, I know,” the man quipped with a soft smirk. “Avoid card sharks, keep my eyes open, and…” his attention softened from teasing to affection, “keep these two outta trouble. I got it.” Clint grinned at Sam's glare but Sam was slightly mollified to see him try to hide a wince at Natasha’s pointed one. 

Steve huffed a laugh and shrugged, “You missed one.” When Clint tilted his head in question, Steve arched a brow indicatively, “Keep yourself out of trouble, too. But I think Tash has that one covered.”

“She tries her best,” Clint conceded. “‘Night. Yell if you need us.”

“Will do,” Steve agreed. “Sleep well.” They made to go their separate ways when Steve spoke again. “Sam...can you...wait, please?”

When the two bedroom doors clicked closed behind their occupants, Sam turned back to face Steve hesitantly. “I wanted to apologize,” Steve said quietly, mindful of the full house. “I overreacted earlier when you were just trying to be helpful.”

“Nah, we’re good, Steve,” Sam dismissed. “Soon as I said it, I knew what I said wrong. We trust you, Steve. All of us know how capable you are but we  _ also _ know how those weird insecurities can work. We’re good.” Steve gave a sheepish smile but tugged him into a loose hug, not quite as intense as the one he gave Natasha but no less affectionate. “You be safe in whatever this is too, you hear me?” Sam added. “Don’t go diving into something too big for you to take on your own just to keep us out of it. We’re Pack. If we do this, we do it together.”

“I know,” Steve admitted, stepping back from the embrace but leaving his hand resting comfortingly on Sam’s shoulder. “I know, it’ll be difficult. To stand back knowing that any or all of you could be hurt or worse but I know that this is bigger than me. That it’s not just my fight.”

“Good,” Sam said with more than a little relief. “Forget that and I might have to help Natasha kick your ass.”

Steve laughed and shook his head turning back to go down the stairs, “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Night,” Sam said to his back, sighing tiredly as he made his way to his own room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again :) Happy Wednesday! Here's lucky number seven, I hope that you enjoy.
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments and feedback. I have completed writing this fic and I've also got a few follow on snippets that I'm thinking about adding on as a series once this one is complete but those are still mostly potentials, so we'll see. :)

Bucky realized several things in rapid succession in the days following the evening with Steve’s Pack. 

The first was that he enjoyed Steve’s scent far more than he’d originally recognized. He hadn’t realized just how  _ peaceful _ and secure someone’s scent alone could be. It wasn’t something he could remember experiencing before but waking up that next morning in Steve’s bed, completely enveloped in that rich earthy scent was something he wouldn’t be quick to forget. It had been ridiculously difficult to convince himself to get up and around that morning with as relaxed and comfortable as he had been. That the same scenario repeated itself multiple times over the following days--occasionally with the big Alpha curled protectively against his back--was a soothing miracle in itself.

Then there was the simple fact that Steve’s Pack did  _ not _ like him. Their actions and body language spoke volumes even when their words offered nothing to substantiate that thought. Sam had been by far the most obvious about his discontent and Natasha the least obvious but it was still quite clear.

Another thing was being witness to the Pack itself. It was interesting, witnessing the Pack’s dynamics from an outsider’s perspective. The way the three male members hovered just slightly more over Natasha, braving her dark glares to do so. And while they hovered, not once had Bucky witnessed them assert themselves into any situation, rather they seemed content to leave her to handle her own business. That alone was unlike anything Bucky had ever seen from the Alphas and Betas he had known. He didn’t even know where to start when it came to seeing the way Steve leaned casually against either Sam or Clint periodically, arm braced over their shoulders or just resting shoulder to shoulder. The affection was clear as day and obviously shared between all of them. It was surreal seeing Alphas and Betas so openly affectionate with one another. Not in a bad way, Bucky certainly wasn’t condemning it. For once in his life, different was good.

Bucky was...he wasn’t  _ jealous _ not in any way that meant he resented what they had or would cause harm or problems to  _ get _ what they had. But, it did paint a very pretty picture of what he had been missing while  _ they _ had him. Would he have found this? Fallen into this sort of family dynamic had he not been taken? Could this have been his life?

Not that it really mattered, in the end. He  _ had _ been taken. He had spent the last few years at the beck and call of a massive network of Omega-Traffickers. Bucky never had a potential buyer in the works. Not even a cursory look from one as far as he knew. Something for which he was undeniably grateful, but at the same time what he  _ did _ have was falling under the unending control and manipulation. Forced to lie, cheat, and steal. Forced to harm others while under the force of the Commands. What he  _ did _ have was memories; too many of them and too few of them good.

So, perhaps it was understandable that the Pack was less welcoming than their Alpha was. Bucky understood that, he truly did. He had even made a point to try to talk to Steve about taking off a few times as not to cause internal problems among them. To take his fight off of their hands. Just as he had in the initial conversation, Steve just smiled sadly and told him to leave if he  _ wanted _ to but not because he felt he  _ had to _ . 

Needless to say, Bucky stayed.

A long week following that initial dinner with the Pack later, Bucky stood side by side with Sam in the kitchen, preparing dinner once again. Though this time, it was just the two of them. It was an unusual occurrence to not have Steve hovering protectively somewhere nearby. Since that meeting, the Pack had taken to staying at the house in the evenings on a nearly permanent basis while things were so strained. Bucky could see that having all of them present took a lot of stress out of Steve’s expressions and posture. The problem was that it also served to highlight their distaste for Bucky.

Bucky stole a sideways glance at the Beta standing beside him. The man was obviously biting something back and attempting to keep the peace. Bucky couldn’t say he knew him well but a week and change in his presence had revealed some tells. 

“D’you need me to go?” He asked evenly once he’d gathered the courage to broach the subject with the most confrontational of Steve’s Pack.

“Nah, man, Steve said you’re welcome here, that means you’re welcome here,” Sam said dismissively in a flat tone, not bothering to look up from the task at hand. 

Bucky snorted a laugh that held little to no actual humor, “Pretty obvious he’s the only one that actually wants me here, though.” He shifted slightly, adjusting his footing and swallowed thickly. “I get it. I’m not...I’m not really what I’d want around either. All things considered. I mean, I know I just brought a whole load of trouble to your doorstep..”

“It would be so much easier if that  _ was _ our issue,” Sam scoffed. “No, I’ve got nothing against you for what those assholes made you do. For what you’ve been through. Props to you for fighting back, actually.”

Bucky dropped his gaze to his hands as they carefully sliced vegetables. His brows furrowed in confusion and after a moment he looked back over, “I’m afraid I don’t understand then.”

“You know,” Sam said thoughtfully after a long moment of silence. “There’s this Big Bad out there that you’ve brought to us. One that Natasha seems to know  _ something _ about. That’s all fine and dandy. We’ve got his and therefore  _ your _ back on that. Whatever happens, they’re gonna be stopped. The thing is though...no matter how big this bad is? As far as I’m concerned?  _ You _ are the biggest threat to Steve Rogers.”

“Me?” Bucky blinked snapping backwards as though Sam had physically struck him. “But I wouldn’t…?”

“See, the thing about Steve is that he’s a tough guy. Strong. Protective. Resourceful. A genuinely  _ good _ Alpha. That man will go out of his way to take care of others whether he knows them or not,” Sam said, tone easy, soft and fond as he spoke. “He offered you safety and protection? You better believe that Alpha will end up six foot under before he lets a damned thing happen to you. But that right there? That’s not even why you’re dangerous.”

Sam paused for a moment glancing around the open space of the house’s main level. Satisfied that they were still alone, he turned bodily to Bucky, setting down the knife and crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the countertop. “What makes you dangerous is that when Steve Rogers feels? He feels everything and he feels hard. He won’t ever admit it, that is if he even realizes that he’s doing it at all.”

“So here’s the deal,” he said staring pointedly at Bucky. Bucky frowned curiously at what he was being told, setting his own knife onto the counter and turning to give his full attention to what the Beta was telling him. “I, we really, refuse to sit back and watch him get trampled over again. It’s not gonna happen. You’re not gonna come in here, find that soft underside of him that’ll give up every little thing that makes him just to make you happy, twist it and use it until he’s got nothing left to give and then wander off. You’re not gonna use him, period. I don’t care if it is just for protection from these Big Bads. Because right now? Steve’s feelin’. He’s feeling hard and doing his damnedest to keep himself in check so he doesn't scare you off.”

“I probably shouldn’t even be telling you that,” Sam admitted. “But there’s the cards on the table. We were set to run you off, Steve’s stubborn nature be damned. We’re still waiting to see if we’re going to need to after this is all said and done. To see how many pieces you’re gonna leave him tore up in for us to pick back up.” Sam eyed him for a moment and then shrugged, “Don’t think you want to know Natasha’s suggestions on what should happen if that’s the case.”

Bucky was silent for several long moments. He thought back to the first coherent days of being around the Alpha and his thoughts about that soft side. The unprotected softness that Alpha’s didn’t often seem to have and never left so exposed and vulnerable when they did. He could see now that he had been wrong in assuming that just because Steve didn’t protect that part of him that it was unprotected. His Pack seemed to pick up that responsibility with stunning ability. 

He had to admit, it was one hell of a shovel talk, to be sure.

“I...I get it, actually,” Bucky admitted. “The last few years, I’ve been around the extremes of Alphas and Betas. The ones that wouldn’t be caught with the word ‘feelings’ coming out of their mouth let alone crossing their minds. The kindness that Steve has shown, all of you really especially considering that you don’t particularly care for me, it’s been...enlightening. I don’t...I don’t  _ want  _ to hurt him.”

“So don’t,” Sam said pointedly.

“How does anyone hurt someone like that?” Bucky asked, mostly rhetorically considering he’d seen plenty examples of the worst behaviors. “Steve, he’s...very genuine. The way he acts with all of you. The way he’s treated me. He...he doesn’t differentiate between the designations, does he?”

“Not generally, no. At least not in the ways that society tends to,” Sam shrugged. “He knows and respects the differences but he sees them as varying strengths and weaknesses that can be complemented by others. Same way our Pack works. What Steve can’t do, we can. Same is true for all of us. Pretty sure that’s how he gained Nat’s loyalty though. Refusing to acknowledge or follow societal limitations for Omegas, especially female Omegas.”

Bucky felt a soft smile work across his face and he nodded in understanding. “It’s very different from what I’m used to. Even before they got me. It makes it very surreal to watch your interactions. I know it’s probably my place to ask but...you said he’s been hurt and discarded before? That you’ve been left to pick up the pieces?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded uncomfortably. “Couple folks did what they needed to do to get close to him. To win him over. All because they wanted his access, money, whatever it happened to be. Not because they wanted  _ him. _ And Steve being Steve always seems to think that it’s something that  _ he’s _ done wrong or something that’s lacking in  _ him _ that drove them away. Not that they tossed him aside because  _ they _ were the trash they were.”

“I see,” Bucky said, frowning in thought. Most people that he knew would have become more guarded following that sort of relationship, let alone multiple repeats. Yet, Steve was opening his home to and welcoming some strange Omega with a dubious background. The back of his mind was raging and snarling over someone having hurt the kind Alpha in such a way. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “One of the first thoughts I had about him, after waking up here and getting stronger after the explosion was kinda on the same lines you’re talking about. How little he seems to protect those soft spots of his. Doesn’t even seem to realize that he’s left something so precious so exposed and vulnerable. Kinda thought that part of him needed protecting, especially if he wasn’t going to do it.”

“We do it for him,” Sam said firmly. “Just like he does for us.”

Bucky studied Sam intently for a moment before quirking a small smile and agreeing pointedly, “Yeah, we do.”

Sam tilted his head in surprise and returned the studious stare, expression giving nothing away, not that Bucky knew the man well enough to read. After a long moment, he inclined his head and turned back to the meal prep. “We’re watching you. Just know that.”

“Good,” Bucky quipped back firmly. The caution and weariness no longer felt as weighty and concerning because Steve deserved to have people watching out for him like that. Bucky could take a couple sets of eyes on him if it meant that Steve had the protection he deserved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Some more revelations


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Here is the next chapter! From here on out the story line begins to pick up the pace and we're just over halfway through!
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this one and look forward to hearing what you think! :)
> 
> See you Wednesday!
> 
> ABD

As had been planned, the Pack and Bucky were in town every day and returned to the house together every evening. Some days Natasha would disappear for several hours and come back with a strained smile. When they were all together in town, Bucky noticed that he and Natasha would find themselves in the center of whatever idle formation was set up. If they were at the tavern in town, the two of them would be bracketed with Clint to Natasha’s left and Steve to Bucky’s right and Sam across the bar keeping an eye on anything and everything behind them. Similar patterns were followed when they were out and about and, by the nature of it, more exposed. They didn’t leave any room for either Omega to potentially be grabbed without them knowing. 

The routine at the house had turned into something entirely different. As Steve had mentioned, he and Sam had spent several hours one day setting traps and alarms at various points around the property and then ensured that everyone present--the Pack plus Bucky--knew exactly where each was located and what they did. That was when Bucky had learned that Sam and Steve had been in the Army together, though they didn’t say it specifically, he was able to recognize specialized training above the general combat training.

That night, two weeks after the initial living room ‘meeting’ and a little over a week after his confrontation with Sam--who’s hostility had cooled noticeably since their conversation--they had all settled back into the couches in the living room, Bucky spoke up, eyeing Steve and Sam hesitantly as he did, “I didn’t think to mention it before, I didn’t really make the connection until now. I think...I think there’s a chance you might have known one, possibly two, of them. From the Army.”

“What makes you say that?” Sam asked before Steve could say a word. 

“Two of the guys that run this particular area, the ones that had me,” Bucky began. “I was with them for a long time. Years. Five, I think? They got to the point where they would talk a bit more freely around me. I guess they figured I was broken down enough that they didn’t have anything to worry about. Anyway,” he shook his head to refocus. “I heard them talking--more like complaining, really--about their time doing specialized missions with the Army.” 

He cringed a little and glanced between the two men, “I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought to mention it until you two were talking about being in the Army earlier and I could suddenly see a lot of similarities and it just clicked.”

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve said calmly, his large hand immediately moving to soothe up and down his back. 

“Do you remember their names?” Sam asked carefully. Bucky tipped his head up to meet the Beta’s dark eyes and intense stare. Sam was calm and patient, nothing like the thinly veiled hostility that he initially carried when speaking to Bucky. 

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky confirmed. “Rumlow and Rollins?”

“ _ Brock _ Rumlow?” Steve asked, voice tight and dark. Bucky turned his head sharply to look at Steve at the tone and nodded hesitantly. Steve’s body went utterly still for a moment and then his jaw twitched. He carefully shifted Natasha’s feet from his lap and gently nudged Bucky from where he had been tucked against Steve’s side, as had become his normal place on evenings like these. An exceedingly gentle squeeze to the back of Bucky’s neck--Steve’s apparently new favorite way to scent mark, something Bucky wouldn’t admit outside his own head how much he’d come to love despite the inherently possessive nature of such a gesture--and Steve launched himself from the couch. 

The Alpha was suddenly all  _ irate  _ Alpha. The careful hold he usually kept on himself seemed non-existent at the confirmation of that one name. He paced angrily, around the living room, large body coiled with barely restrained anger, his usually calming, earthy scent sharpening like a raging wildfire. Steve paused mid-step and spun to look at Sam, a hint of soured desperation intertwining with the palpable anger. Steve swallowed thickly and muttered a quick “excuse me,” before turning and leaving the house through the front door, using as much care as he could possibly gather to keep from breaking the door when he pulled it closed behind him.

Everything in Bucky was begging him to get up and move, to go after him and provide some sort of comfort. Suddenly, a small body was pressed against his side and a matching hand was pressing down on his shoulder. Bucky blinked rapidly and glanced over to find Natasha pushing easily into his space, curling herself seamlessly against his side--going as far as to insistently nudging his arm out of her way. He let himself be nudged into position, staring at her in surprise the entire time. None of the Pack save Steve had willingly touched him more than absolutely necessary in the three weeks he had been among them. To have the most distant member, though Sam had easily been the most overtly hostile, suddenly pushing into his space in a move that was typically restricted to Pack was a more than a little stunning. 

“Leave him for now,” Natasha said quietly. “He left because he was worried about losing control of himself and accidentally hurting one of us. If you follow him now it’ll do more harm than good.”

Bucky swallowed heavily but forced himself to relax back into the couch and into the contact of the other Omega curled against him, her now familiar floral scent--apple blossoms, possibly?--surprisingly comforting. “Should I not have mentioned the names?” He asked after a moment.

“No, it’s good for us to know what,  _ who _ we’re up against,” Sam said and Bucky could hear a trace of anger in his voice. “You were right to think that we might know them.”

“Tell us,” Natasha insisted. “Just knowing someone doesn’t earn that kind of reaction from Steve.”

Sam sighed heavily and ran a weary hand over his head before dropping it limply back into his lap. “We, Steve and I, were the ones with the heaviest hands in Rumlow’s training. Rollins, too, but Rollins was always more of a follower. Rumlow raised hell over having me as one of his trainers.”

“Why?” Clint asked with a frown.

“Because a Beta has no place trying to train Alphas,” Sam responded dryly as though repeating a quote he had heard somewhere. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised to learn that those were verbatim words from Rumlow. Sam shook his head and forced himself back on track. “They were placed with our unit and we were the ones meant to shape them. Mold them into the pieces the unit needed. A year in we started having some concerns about how particularly vicious they got and certain...liberties they started feeling they were due. Steve took it personally and doubled down as Leader to reel them, Rumlow specifically, back in.”

Sam dropped his gaze to his hands and paused hesitantly before speaking again. “The last Op that Steve and I ran, something happened between those two, Steve and Rumlow. I still don’t know the details, Steve doesn’t talk about it, but I’m guessing it was pretty bad. The whole Op ended up a bust, I think it was largely due to whatever stunt Rumlow pulled. Steve sent whatever the problem was up the chain and then submitted his resignation the next day, said he was done enabling Alpha’s like Rumow in the field, threatened to go AWOL if it wasn’t accepted. I was pretty disillusioned myself at that point, and I go where he goes, so I followed.”

The room fell silent for a moment and Bucky shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I think...I think I might know what happened on that Op,” he admitted, avoiding their curious stares. “Rumlow and Rollins liked to brag about their service time just as much as they liked to complain about it. I think that Steve might have unknowingly stumbled on their early attempts at trafficking. The timeline sounds like they were discharged shortly after you two left. They always made comments about it being good timing for business and such.”

“Oh shit,” Sam breathed, his own usually smooth and mild leathery scent souring potently, and before anyone could say another word, he was out of his chair and darting out the front door, slamming it behind him as he went. 

“You should go after them,” Natasha spoke quietly to Clint. Bucky watched their interaction curiously. Clint’s body language was coiled so tightly and he was eyeing the door anxiously, his hands balled into fists against his thighs. 

Clint huffed a laugh that held no amusement and shook his head as he took a deep breath and slowly released the tension from his body. He flashed Natasha a smile that was closer to a grimace and shook his head again, “Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Clint,” Natasha began but the Alpha cut her off with a flat glare that was unusually intense for the Alpha that generally seemed fairly laid back. Bucky wasn’t sure he had seen any of the Pack direct that sort of look towards Natasha--Bucky, and the other three men saw those looks fairly often from one another but rarely, if ever, were they directed at Natasha--in the time he had been around them, let alone the Alpha that was undeniably besotted with the tiny redhead.

“Natasha,” Clint said, tone level but serious. “Sam has this. If you think, knowing what we know, I’m gonna walk outta here and leave the two of you unprotected then you’re missing some pretty big details.” Natasha opened her mouth to protest, expression dark and Clint raised a hand to stop the words, meeting her glare with one of his own. “I  _ know _ you can protect yourself, Nat. Believe me, I know what you’re capable of. I’m still not gonna leave you two unprotected. It’s not happening so let it go. Not only would Steve rip me a new one once he’s calmed down but it would  _ kill me _ if something happened to you when I could’ve done something to stop it.”

“Natasha,” Bucky urged quietly nudging her lightly with the arm that she’d tucked herself under, drawing her angry attention onto himself. “If they were to come after us, they’d come in using Alpha Commands. Neither of us are helpless in general but we don’t really have much of a way to combat the Commands when they’re used. And they  _ would _ be used.” She clenched her jaw tightly at the reminder but nodded once in understanding. “Besides,” Bucky said with a small smile, nudging her again, “you know Alpha’s gotta feel useful when those protective instincts are raging.” The jest earned him a small smirk of amusement tinted with resigned agreement and a slightly heavier lean into his side so Bucky counted that as a win despite the mild glare it earned him from said Alpha. 

After a long moment of silence between the three of them, Clint turned his attention back to Bucky and studied him curiously, “You said you were with them for five years?”

“I-uh-yeah,” Bucky cringed slightly at the topic but nodded. “I think it was five years or so. Not like they really let me keep a calendar or anything to mark the time.”

“How’d that happen?” he asked, sitting forward in his seat. “You said they grabbed you.”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed. “I worked at a bar in the city before. They came in a couple of times and talked to me. I didn’t think a whole lot of it at the time considering. An Omega working in a bar like that? It was pretty common for Alphas to try to make passes and try getting fresh. I just brushed it off like I always did. The night they grabbed me, I was closing up. Usually the owner doesn’t like having Omegas close, at least not alone for obvious safety reasons but we had someone call off at the last minute and there wasn’t really any other option. I got the doors locked and...well, next thing I know I’m a hundred miles from home and coming to being forcefully disarmed and a shitton of cash being pulled out of my hands. Still not sure how much time passed that first time.”

“So they case their potential marks before they make the grab,” Clint concluded thoughtfully. “Is that how they’re still operating?”

“As far as I know,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Though, what Natasha said a few weeks ago about having plants in town sounds like something they would do. Early on, Rumlow liked to have direct hand in getting a feel for who they were taking. Now though, it’s grown too big and he can’t do it all on his own. He’s got a few people that he usually sends out ahead of big jobs, too. He had Rollins scoping before he sent me on that last one.”

“Why do they do those sort of jobs when they’re in the business of running Omega’s?” Clint asked, head tilted while he considered the facts as they’d been presented.

Bucky winced at the phrasing and could see Natasha shoot a chastising glare at the Alpha but he shrugged again, “Don’t know. I suppose maybe to keep the network running when they don’t have buyers in the wings? Maybe it’s just greed? Maybe to test what I’m capable of in case there was an interested buyer? Five years under their control and I still couldn’t tell you exactly what goes on in their heads. They didn’t really take the time to discuss their business strategies, oddly enough.”

“They never had you help in making the grabs?” Clint asked.

“No?” Bucky said, blinking in surprise at the question.

Clint tilted his head in thought, “I mean, it would make sense. It’s logical that an Omega would be more comfortable going somewhere with another Omega than with a strange Alpha.”

Bucky cringed, stomach heaving violently at the thought. He was suddenly infinitely grateful that his captors never seemed to have thought of that particular brand of torture. Bucky was sure that he’d never forgive himself for pulling someone else into that hell, no matter how much or how little control he would have had at the time. Natasha’s slight weight against him was comforting and grounding as he pulled himself together enough to answer the question. “No. No, they never used me to lure other Omegas to them. I think they took twisted satisfaction at making the grabs themselves.”

The front door swung open and Clint shifted back into his seat to watch Steve and Sam reenter the house, Sam carefully closing the door behind him. Both men were subdued but met the concerned eyes on them evenly enough. Sam forwent the chair he had abandoned and instead dropped onto the couch next to Clint, tipping sideways enough until their shoulders brushed, some of the evident tension easing at the casual contact. 

Steve eyed the two Omegas on the couch with a soft expression. When Natasha tensed and started to move to let Steve back between them, the Alpha shook his head and dropped to sit on the floor at their feet, resting his back against both of their legs. Bucky shifted enough to run fingers through blonde hair, scratching lighty at his scalp drawing a low sigh from the Alpha as he leaned a little heavier against their legs. 

Natasha made a small noise of discontent and shifted, pulling her legs from where they were pinned under Steve’s weight and, instead, draped them haphazardly over his shoulder, the bend of her knees fitting neatly over the broad stretch of his shoulder with her bare feet dangling against his chest. When her squirming finally came to a stop, Natasha was effectively sprawled across the both of them. Her head was a comfortable weight against Bucky’s chest while one of her hands toyed idly with the fingers of the arm that was curled around her, her legs draped over Steve and the fingers of her opposite hand rolling the collar of Steve’s shirt. 

It was indicative, Bucky thought, of how tense, how tenuous their current situation was and how much Natasha was feeling it despite her typically hyper-composed nature. She was allowing herself to reach out to comfort and to  _ be comforted _ and...Bucky thought that just maybe including  _ him _ in the comfort was a show of acceptance. The thought alone made his breath catch slightly in his chest and after a brief moment of hesitation, he tilted his head just enough to rest his chin against the top of her head where it rested against him. Her response was minute, a barely noticeable squeeze of her fingers around his own where she had been playing with them and a barely there brush of the soft skin of her wrist ghosting over his. Subtle, perhaps, but it was there. 

“We’re gonna need to find a way to roll up this timeline,” Sam said suddenly, drawing Bucky from his thoughts. 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed with a heavy sigh. “I don’t want them out there and active any longer than absolutely necessary.”

“We’ll have to be careful though,” Natasha interjected. “If these guys have the same sort of training that you two have then we’re going to have a hard time containing this without risking potential casualties.”

“They don’t just have the same training, Nat,” Sam reminded her. “We trained them.”

“And walked away when we shoulda stopped them,” Steve said with a sigh, his posture sinking heavily under the weight of the realization. Bucky curled his fingers against his scalp, scratching and rubbing gently at the skin to help ease some of the responding tension. 

Sam shifted his attention to Bucky, “How well do you know the other guys? The ones that might be plants?”

“Not well,” Bucky frowned. “If I came across them at some point I might be able to recognize faces but I wouldn’t be able to tell you much of anything about them.”

“Do you know how long they spent scoping out marks before they act?” Clint asked, referring back to their earlier conversation.

Bucky worked carefully through his memories at the question, attempting to find a pattern or any information that could help them on that topic. He chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip, focusing on the middle-distance as everything played through his mind. 

“With me, I could only recognize that week leading up to it and only in hindsight. Big jobs, like the ones they liked to send me on, they would have weeks of intel that would help them pinpoint the best possible place and time to send me in,” Bucky answered, words slowly articulated as he put his memories into words. “I don’t know where their intel came from. That wasn’t something they talked about around me, no matter how broken they thought I was. The Omegas though…” he drifted off, frowning deeply as he wracked his memory. 

“It depended on whether they had specific orders from a buyer or if they were just ‘shopping’. That’s what they called it,” he said finally, swallowing thickly. “I know the next town to the east of here? What was it called?”

“Dalton?” Natasha questioned.

“No, that’s not it, they hit that one a couple months ago. It was something...flowery?”

“Flowery? You mean Florence?” Sam asked with a small amused smirk.

“Yes, that one,” Bucky nodded. “Florence. They had someone in Florence for at least a month. I don’t know if they ever made a grab there, I was sent on that last run before anything came of it.”

“Wait, they hit Dalton already?” Steve interrupted, turning his head as far as he could to look at Bucky without dislodging Natasha’s legs.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Bucky winced guiltily. “From what I was able to overhear, that one turned out pretty nasty. They got two Omegas from Dalton but lost a couple of their guys in the process. Rumlow was in a mood for weeks after that, I tried to steer clear so I don’t have a whole lot of information on that one.”

“I think I heard something about that one, actually,” Natasha spoke up thoughtfully. “From what I understood, there wasn’t a whole lot to go on and Dalton went with the ‘heist gone badly’ in their reports.”

“So Dalton, Florence,” Clint frowned, leaning forward in his seat. “What about Lee? Bradford? Gibson? Hobbs?”

Bucky frowned and considered the town names against his memory and then winced, “They’re all familiar names. I don’t know if they were hit or under observation but I know they were talked about.”

“Son of a--” Sam swore, sinking back into his chair with sudden realization.

“Sam?” Steve prompted.

“They’re circling the Valley, Steve,” Clint said seriously. “Dalton and Florence are almost directly East of here, Bradford is Southeast. Lee is to the North. Gibson is Northwest and Hobbs is just southwest of Gibson.”

“So they’re hitting all around us but probably still scouting Vine Valley,” Steve frowned. “Why?”

“A guess?” Sam cocked his head and grimaced. “You and me. We weren’t exactly subtle when we and Natasha settled here and snatched up Clint on our way. Their whole deal with trafficking is obviously a big part of it but at least some of it is starting to sound like it might be personal.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!!
> 
> Okay, so from here going forward things start to pick up a bit. This chapter in particular touches on those hard topics that are listed in the tags. If there's concern about what you're going to read, you're welcome to jump down to the end notes for the spoilers.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Feel free to let me know what you think :)

Ever since they began discussing and planning the take down of the trafficking-chain that once held Bucky in their grasp, the Pack had noticeably closed ranks around one another. It was obvious in the way they each sat within arms reach of one another when piled on the couches in the living room at the Den, which Bucky had taken to calling it. It was also clear in how none of the Pack seemed to travel solo if it could be helped. Even Natasha’s information gathering disappearances had become minimal though they hadn’t entirely stopped, they couldn’t afford it to stop yet. 

Bucky could see it in Sam’s steady but narrowed gaze each time someone walked through the doors of the tavern, the way that Clint’s increasingly ridiculous and distracting antics were belied by the tight line of his shoulders, and the confident almost graceful control that Steve managed to have over himself and his movements when he truly embraced the Alpha instincts rather than attempting to suppress them. He even felt it in himself. Hyper-aware of voices and scents of everyone around him and defensive tension in his body that only seemed to uncoil in the safety of the Den.

In the days following Bucky’s revelation into the identities of his captors, the Pack had closed in even tighter. He could tell it was a struggle for Steve to stand back and allow any of them out of his sight, no matter how necessary it was. They all, save Bucky, still had regular lives to attend to, after all.

That day in particular, Steve had wandered off in the name of checking in around town like he usually did being sheriff and all, leaving Bucky in the company of Clint and Sam for the time being. Natasha had slipped away an hour or so earlier, Clint’s eyes pinned to her back as she went. Bucky excused himself from the watchful eyes of the two men, ducking into the small washroom to reground himself.

He had done a good job for the most part, he thought, at keeping his fear--both of his past and the present situation--buried and at bay. But there were moments...moments when it was all just entirely too much. Sometimes, when tension was high but the air around was quiet, Bucky could still hear the whispered echoes of the last set of Commands reverberating through his mind. Sometimes it was as though he could still feel their pull, their urging, despite having been out from under their control for over a month. Despite having been under the care and protection of a genuinely  _ good _ Alpha like Steve Rogers. 

For the most part, he tried to keep his fear hidden, tucked in the far corners of his mind where he didn’t have to think too heavily on it. Everything he had heard and seen and done. Occasionally he knew that he would drift off, staring into the space around him as the memories replayed in heartbreaking detail through his mind. His index finger twitching around the ghost of a rifle trigger, feet itching with the need to flee. His body would ache at the remembered pain of a particularly brutal kick to the ribs or vicious yank at his hair. And those damned Commands lingering in his ears.

He would come back to himself tucked securely into Steve’s side, one broad hand cupped at the back of his head urging Bucky’s nose into the curve of his neck. It had been surprisingly easy for Bucky to accept the calm security in Steve’s scent, despite his troubled history with Alphas…not that  _ those Alphas _ ever tried to have Bucky scent  _ them, _ though the opposite had occurred with humiliating frequency. The Alpha, nor any of his Pack, said a word about these moments. Not during and not after. Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. Sam had gently attempted to pry just one time but the inquiry had been silenced mid-word, not by Steve who had been preoccupied with Bucky himself, but by a vicious snarl from a grim faced Natasha. 

Suffice to say, he hadn’t tried again after that. 

Bucky lingered in the washroom for several long minutes until he was certain that his scent had evened out once more. There was no need to get Clint and Sam worked up over Omega distress when it was memories rather than an actual foe causing the distress. Not to mention if Steve happened to come back earlier than planned only to be hit with the sharp scent. He exhaled heavily, bracing his hands against the wall for a short moment before straightening and exiting the small room. 

Suddenly, there was a rough hand at the back of his neck, squeezing harshly and shoving him face first into the wall beside the washroom door, Bucky grunted against the blossoming pain in his cheek, a firm body pressing heavily against his back. 

“There you are, pet,” a terribly familiar voice hissed in his ear. The stomach rolling, suffocatingly musky scent of patchouli reached Bucky’s nose and his mind was shot straight back into the panic mode that he had just pulled himself from. “We’ve been looking for you. I heard you might have survived your  _ terrible _ accident.” 

“Get off of me,” Bucky snarled, planting his hands against the wall to gain momentum and shoving back violently against the solid form of his assailant. He had finally,  _ finally, _ tasted freedom. He’d gotten away, albeit accidentally. And he’d found Steve and-and his Pack.  _ Steve. _ He had to stop this. He had to. He wasn’t going to just let--

_ “Be still _ ,” the Alpha Commanded with a snarl, roughly slamming his head into the wall to further force compliance. Bucky instantly went pliant, fight fleeing his body in an automatic response. The voice in his ear continued in a low snarl, Command still lacing every word, coaxing every inch of Bucky’s nature into submission. “Now, we’re gonna leave here and you’re not gonna do anything that’s gonna alert those new friends of yours. Understood?” Bucky nodded urgently in agreement, his body trembling under the strain of the Command. 

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work,” drawled a second familiar voice coldly--though in the haze, Bucky couldn’t quite place why it was so familiar. The Alpha at Bucky’s back was wrenched away abruptly and he stumbled at the sudden shift in weight. Hands circled around his biceps to steady him and Bucky instinctively recoiled from the contact.

“Easy.” The now-familiar mild leathery scent settled Bucky’s senses before Sam’s steady voice could be registered as  _ safe _ . Bucky stumbled once again though this time  _ towards _ what he could even blindly recognize as safety. Hands tightened ever so slightly around his arms but Bucky didn’t fight the pull this time, allowing Sam to pull him in. Despite the soothing Beta pheromones enveloping him in a sense of security, Bucky could still feel the weight of the Command on his mind.

_ Be still _ . 

Bucky stilled. Sam frowned in what might have been concern and stepped protectively ahead of him, tucking him against his back and placing himself firmly between Bucky and what he could vaguely recognize as two enraged Alphas. Clint had the man pinned on his back on the floor of the small hallway. His body blocked whatever was being said and done, even if Bucky had been in the state of mind to comprehend. Clint’s broad shoulders jerked harshly once and the Alpha on the floor let out a snarling shriek of pain. 

Clint wiped his hands on his pants as he rocked back onto his heels and rose to his feet. As he turned to face Bucky and Sam, he idly wiped the slight flow of blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He approached the two and met Sam’s gaze, “Go close this place down. Everyone but us needs to go.”

“What about--?”

“I got it, Sam,” Clint interrupted firmly. In his current state, Bucky couldn’t suppress the shiver at the angry Alpha’s stern instruction despite no Command in the tone. Unlike most Alphas that Bucky had dealt with in the past, Clint went onto explain the instruction. “This is your place, you gotta be the one to tell everyone it’s time to go. If nothing else, closing up early will get Steve’s attention and get his ass back here.”

Bucky could feel a slight shift in Sam’s muscles as he moved, turning carefully as not to cause any further discomfort. He caught a gentle hold on Bucky’s upper arm, just above his elbow and guided him to Clint who easily took over the careful contact. As Sam made his way toward the main room, Bucky could feel the comforting presence of Sam’s palm dragging comfortingly across his shoulders, dropping off as he moved out of range leaving behind a hint of his comforting scent. Had he been in his right mind, Bucky would have been stunned by such a gesture from the previously cold Beta. As it was, his Omega-mind calmed just slightly at the marking but couldn’t quite acknowledge it as something unusual or of significance.

Clint’s hands moved from his arms to carefully cup either side of Bucky’s face--hands gentling when Bucky winced at the contact with his bruising flesh--drawing his attention. He was speaking. What was he saying? Bucky furrowed his brow, frowning in attempt to focus on the words through the thick clouds of panic and lingering Command.

“Are you with me?” Clint’s voice and woodsmoke scent cut through the fog after a long moment. Bucky managed a small nod in acknowledgement. “Good. I’m not sure how they typically withdrew the Commands and I know that you’re not in any shape to tell me. Right now, what I need you to do is slow your breathing. You understand?”

Bucky nodded shakily again and closed his eyes to focus on the instructions given, instinctively trusting the Alpha to keep watch and relying on the gentle contact to keep him grounded. The truth was, Bucky wasn’t even certain how they released the Commands in order to share that information. He couldn’t recall any specific action or phrase utilized. But that wasn’t what he was supposed to be focusing on. He drew a deep breath, counting off in his head as he did.

“Good,” Clint commended quietly. “Now listen, this is up to you. Do you want help with the calm? Or do you want to wait for Steve for that?”

Bucky hesitated a moment to let his sluggish mind consider the options. But really, it wasn’t really necessary for him to take the time to consider. While, yes, he honestly ached for Steve’s soothing presence, Bucky had, at some point, come to trust Clint, Sam, and Natasha more than he had realized. With a stuttered but somewhat controlled breath, Bucky nodded again, breathing out a quiet “Please.”

“You got it,” Clint agreed immediately. “Deep breaths for me.”

He let himself sink into the warm woodsmoke and the gentle hold, his breath slowly coming back to normal levels. He could still feel himself trembling slightly and could still feel the weight of the Command on his mind but both, for that moment, were manageable. Not quite as concerning.

“Good,” Clint said softly again. “Now, I need you to go to Sam, alright? I’ve gotta stay back here with our friend until Steve and Natasha come back around. Are you able to do that?”

The kind instruction from a trusted Alpha warred with the direct Command to be still and not draw attention. Bucky drew another deep breath, taking in the calming scent and clinging to the support offered. The Command weakened but didn’t release him entirely. Bucky groaned in frustration.

“Do you trust me to use a Command to attempt to release this one?” Clint offered and immediately followed it up with clarification. “Don’t agree if you’re not comfortable with it. I won’t use it without your permission.”

“I-I,” Bucky paused and then frowned slightly in thought. Opening his eyes and meeting Clint’s serious ones head on, he offered another short nod, “I trust you.”

Clint blinked rapidly in surprise at the confirmation but quickly brought himself back to focus. “Okay. Okay, right. Uh,” Clint winced slightly at his own fumbling and paused for a short moment. “You’re going to disregard all previous Commands given,” he Commanded firmly but with surprising gentleness. “You’re not to allow them to force any thoughts or actions. They no longer exist. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I-I understand,” Bucky exhaled heavily in relief, despite Clint’s obvious uncertainty with utilizing Alpha Commands, it felt like it had done its job. The absolute stillness he had previously felt bound to keep loosened its hold, melted away, leaving behind the memory of it and the remaining panic of the situation. 

The sudden absence of the Command left him feeling him off-kilter though. For so long, all the Commands given had been issued with cold, brutal harshness. The bruising squeeze of a hand at the back of his neck forcing him into submission and a snarled Command hissed into his ear. That was what he knew. To have that,  _ all of that _ , undone with a handful of kindly spoken words felt...wrong. 

Anti-climatic, to be certain.

Bucky shifted his feet and met Clint’s attention once again. “I’m-I’m okay. I think I’m okay. I can...feel it?”

“Good,” Clint said with a slight smile. Using the hands still framing Bucky’s face, Clint pulled their foreheads together for a brief moment before releasing him and taking a step back. When Clint turned to look over his shoulder at Bucky’s assailant, Bucky followed his gaze. Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise to find Rollins pinned to the ground with the long, thin blade of a knife piercing through the tender flesh of his wrist. From the looks of it, Clint had managed to stab the knife perfectly in the narrow space between the two bones of the forearm and into the wood panel beneath him. Bucky winced wriggling his own fingers in an automatically sympathetic response. 

“Nice,” he said, cocking his head to the side curiously. “Lucky shot?”

“I’ve always had pretty solid aim,” Clint said, tone just slightly smug. 

“I’d say,” Bucky said, feeling a small amount of amusement despite the horrifying situation.

“Look, you need to head back out with Sam,” Clint instructed, tone and expression matching in seriousness. “If he’s shut down and got everyone out of here, Steve and Nat should be here soon.” Bucky’s attention lingered on the pinned man for a long moment until Clint draped an arm across his shoulders and bodily turned them both from the bloody scene. The gesture was now so very familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, making him miss Steve’s presence all the more while simultaneously making him grateful for Clint’s. “We’ll talk more when the Pack’s together. For now, you need to get back out there. Let me take care of this for now.”

Bucky cleared his throat but nodded firmly in understanding. He paused for another moment and tilted his head back to meet Clint’s serious gaze. “I just...Thank you.”

“That’s what we do,” Clint shrugged and then pointedly added. “We take care of each other.”

Before that statement could fully settle into his mind, Clint used the hold on his shoulders to push Bucky forward, back to the main room of the tavern. Finally giving in and following his instructions, Bucky made surprisingly steady strides. He found Sam relatively easily. The Beta was clearly going through his closing routine that typically wouldn’t happen for several more hours but Bucky could understand the grounding effect of completing familiar routines.

“Anything I can help with?” Bucky offered.

“I got it,” Sam said with a distracted shake of his head. Bucky accepted the refusal and carefully settled onto one of the stools to better stay out of his way. Silence stretched between them and Bucky shifted uncomfortably. “You know,” Sam said suddenly, tone sharp and bitter. “Even back then I knew those two were rotten. Never did particularly care for them. But I don’t think I’d have guessed they were this dirty. Even...Even after listening to everything you’ve told us. I still had trouble reconciling the guys I was eyeballs deep in hell with, to the men you described.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky responded solemnly.

“No, you don’t apologize,” Sam said firmly, coming to an abrupt halt in his tasks to turn and face Bucky. “Don’t you apologize, especially not for them. There’s not a damned thing you’ve got to apologize for. This isn’t on you.”

Bucky gave a slightly sad smile and shook his head, “Maybe not directly but I am the one that dropped this in your laps.”

“And we’re better for it,” Sam insisted. “Steve and I, we’ve talked about it. We  _ knew _ they were no good. But that we failed to see  _ this _ and you got caught up in it because we missed the forest for the trees? That’s not okay. And maybe it’s not  _ entirely _ our fault, we get that. But it’s gonna be a long time before either of us are able to settle that with ourselves. But not knowing wouldn’t have helped anyone.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Rollins has a brand new wrist piercing courtesy of Clint’s good aim,” Bucky deadpanned with a shrug.

“You know what? That does make me feel a little better,” Sam huffed a laugh. “Though wouldn’t mind if we added a head piercing to complete the collection.”

“Hmm, I can see that being tempting,” Bucky agreed thoughtfully. “Though the head piercing would have to come  _ after  _ the knot piercing. For the effect, of course.”

Sam stared at him in surprise for a moment and then laughed, “Yeah, of course. Everything I know and have heard about him, he deserves a knot piercing with you in charge of the placing. Think Natasha might be up for helping with that one.”

“Knot piercings? Natasha is  _ always _ up for helping with knot piercings for the well-deserving Alpha,” Natasha’s voice interrupted from the door. “Why is the tavern closed and who’s knot are we piercing?” As soon as she finished speaking, bright green eyes zeroed in on the obvious bruising on Bucky’s face and the missing Alpha. “Where’s Clint?”

“Babysitting an Omega-Snatcher,” Sam said dryly, nodding towards the back hall. Natasha stared down the hall for a long moment, body tense before she drew a slow, deep breath and approached the bar instead. She pulled herself easily onto the stool beside Bucky and took his face in her hands, turning and angling his head as she checked the damage. 

“My face got well acquainted with the wall,” Bucky said by way of explanation.

“Barnes, being smitten with our Alpha does not mean you have to start acting like him,” Natasha scolded with a small smirk on her lips. 

“He’s got a long way to go before he’s as accident prone as Steve,” Sam quipped from behind the bar. Bucky felt his face flush and he attempted to pull away from Natasha’s grip. Her fingers tightened and her eyes narrowed, Bucky grimaced but relaxed back into her examination.

“True,” Natasha agreed idly. “But Steve’s also had a massive head start.”

“Can I ask about that, actually?” Bucky asked with a small frown.

“About what?” Sam asked, leaning against the opposite side of the counter beside them, arms crossed comfortably over his chest.

“Steve,” Bucky’s frown deepened as he tried to find the words to explain. “I’ve seen how he is, hell I’ve helped to patch him after ridiculous clumsiness. But...I don’t understand. He’s always Alpha, obviously. But when he’s really, truly in Alpha ‘mode’, I guess, it’s entirely different. He’s almost graceful in comparison. Sometimes, he doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s doing it. Like, the day I initially told him about everything he did a little show-off moment to try and prove that he could help. It was a conscious shift then, but for the most part it’s like he doesn’t even realize that he’s...switched gears.”

“As long as I’ve known him, he’s been exactly like that,” Natasha frowned thoughtfully. “A walking disaster one moment and then graceful Alpha the next.”

“I don’t think Steve ever really got the confidence of living in his skin,” Sam said quietly. “We tease him about it sometimes but he really was a tiny scrap of a thing for years. He didn’t look like he does now until right before the Army. The guy got hit with his Alpha stuff and just sprouted like a damned tree. But I don’t think he’s really accepted it, think he forgets that he’s not still the little guy sometimes. Unless there’s some reason for it to get called forward. Like this whole mess of a situation.”

“That would make sense,” Natasha shrugged. “He’s been ‘on’ for a while now. Think it’ll stick when everything settles?”

“Honestly?” Sam arched a brow. “I doubt it. I think once life falls back into relatively normal pattern we’ll have the awkward, clumsy Steve back.”

Bucky wasn’t sure that he fully bought that. It seemed to him more like an intentional suppression of what made him an Alpha that occasionally slipped up. But then again, he hadn’t known Steve as long as Sam and Natasha had. So maybe they were right and Steve would revert to the clumsy Alpha when things calmed down. He thought that was alright though. He’d grown fond of the shy, awkward but ridiculously sweet Alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible Hot Spots: Rollins finds Bucky at the Tavern and Commands him into obedience and attempts to take off with him again. Clint and Sam manage to stop it but not before Bucky takes some damage.
> 
> Next Chapter: Bucky and Steve are back at the house, things go really, really well and then really really not so well.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Sunday and here we are again! Hope everyone had a lovely week :)
> 
> Like I said last chapter, we're picking up the pace in these next several chapters through to the end. Same as before, if you're concerned, you're welcome to check out end notes for the overview of what's coming this chapter. 
> 
> You might have noticed that the number of chapters has been changed to add an additional chapter. Apparently, this story wasn't through with me yet and I'm nearly finished with an epilogue chapter. I am still considering working on a 'missing scene' type series for this story but I haven't begun that as of yet. Let me know if you think of something particular that you might want to see included in these!
> 
> Anywho, I hope that you enjoy Chapter 10!

Bucky was in the barn with Steve, sitting on the same bale that he usually did, crouched forward with his elbows on his knees and face in his hands when it all hit him. It had become routine to linger there, waiting while Steve tended to the horses and the various tack after returning from town. It was a comfortable routine that seemed to help dissolve some of the tension that the exposed vulnerability of being in town and in the open caused. But that particular trip into town had, obviously, been much more trying than what was their typical.

He had been fine, mostly, just listening to Steve’s steady movements and his soft, rambling conversations with the horses as he worked. The low timber of Steve’s voice gave Bucky’s mind something to follow and latch onto that wasn’t lingering on what had happened at the tavern. How close he’d come to losing all of this. Losing himself again. The feeling of the harsh hand gripping the nape of his neck, the body pressing him against the wall, and the snarling hissing in his ear. He could still feel it, no matter how hard he attempted to cling to the present.

Bucky’s mind followed the memory, branching off into the terrifying scenario where Clint and Sam didn’t arrive when they had. The scenario where Rollins was able to steal him away from the tavern with no one the wiser until Bucky never returned from the washroom. Would they have stopped hunting in Vine Valley once they got Bucky back or would he have been forced to attack them, to _hurt_ them while back under the Commands? Bucky wasn’t stupid, he knew that he’d have been forced to turn his skills against the Pack. His stomach twisted and lurched at the thought.

Would they have done like Clint suggested and tried using Bucky to grab Natasha? The thought horrified him. Oh, he was going to be sick.

Suddenly there was a hand on the back of his neck and Bucky jolted, panic spiking sharply. He instinctively snarled and blindly struck out in the direction the hand had come from disregarding the surprised grunt in response. The hand was knocked away from him and Bucky launched himself forward, throwing his weight into the figure in front of him. Large hands curled around his forearms and restrained Bucky’s forward movements. A sudden twist of their bodies and Bucky found himself wrapped tightly in strong arms, his own pinned to his sides with hands shifting to pin his wrists together.

“Bucky,” a deep voice said firmly but gently in his ear. “Come on, sweetheart. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Bucky gasped a stuttered breath and trembled, “Steve. Oh gods, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed, slowly releasing the snug, restraining hold in exchange for pulling them to sit up on the hard barn floor and tugging Bucky into his side with gentle movements. “Are you alright?”

“I-I, yeah? I think so?” Bucky managed, folding easily into the hold. Without needing Steve’s guiding hand, he let himself tilt into his side more firmly and turned his head to tuck his face into the curve of Steve’s neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was...I was stuck. Thinking about--about everything that happened and how _close_ all of this was to being gone again. What they’d do to me, what they’d _make me do_ , if they got me back.”

“And I touched you similar to what he did,” Steve finished solemnly, stroking a broad hand up and down Bucky’s side in slow, soothing motions. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“No,” Bucky frowned in frustration. “They _can’t_ take that too, Steve. I-I-I like when you do it, usually. It’s...It’s comforting and _safe_ . It’s _you._ I don’t want them to take that too.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Bucky’s head, following it with a sweet nuzzle into his hair. “Then we don’t let them,” Steve said, a quiet murmur into Bucky’s ear. “But we don’t push you into panic either. That’s not what I want for you because that doesn’t make you feel safe and I want you to feel safe with me.”

Bucky nodded in understanding and agreement into his shoulder. Slowly and tellingly, Steve’s palm slid up Bucky’s side once again, palm and fingers firm yet gentle. He stroked up over Bucky’s shoulder blade until his fingers traced the curve of his shoulder and up over the stretch of his neck. Without stopping to curve around the nape, Steve’s fingers sank into Bucky’s hair instead. Bucky sighed and his eyes fell closed at the feeling of blunt nails scratching over his scalp, fingertips pressing and massaging gently over the back of his skull. 

Bucky felt tension melt from his mind and body under the careful ministrations, letting his head tilt back into the touch. After several long, almost perfect moments of soaking into the tender touch, Bucky forced his eyes back open and found Steve’s watching him softly. It was such a sweetly intense look that Bucky couldn’t help but meet it with a small smile. He watched with a soft mind as Steve’s eyes dipped to his lips to follow the slight gesture.

Bucky’s hand reached out to curl his fingers into the fabric of Steve’s shirt. When he tugged slightly, Steve’s bright blue eyes snapped back up to meet his with a new intensity. His free hand drifted up to catch Bucky’s chin, tipping up just a touch. When Steve’s face tilted closer, Bucky let his eyes fall closed once again, breath catching when Steve’s lips ghosted lightly over his, once, twice. Bucky relaxed into the points of contact--fingertips on his chin, a broad palm cupping the back of his head, and soft lips pressing more firmly against his--and into the rich, earthy scent that left him held and entirely enveloped.

Steve withdrew only to dip immediately back in for two more ghosting kisses. Then another light press of his lips to his bruised cheek and then to Bucky’s forehead. The hand at his chin dropped and wrapped around him, drawing him in closer despite the virtually nonexistent space between them already while the hand at his head pressed him gently back into the crook of Steve’s neck. 

Steve pressed another firm kiss to the top of his head and Bucky shifted to overlace his fingers with where Steve’s cupped around his upper arm. They sat there in a comfortable silence, curled into and around one another for several long moments. Bucky felt something in him settle at the peacefulness of the moment. The soul-deep ache that the events of the day had caused soothing and smoothing out. The residual panic dissipating, swept away by the affectionate, caring presence of the Alpha holding him tightly. 

Bucky grumbled in mild discontent when Steve shifted, carefully standing and drawing Bucky to his feet in the same motion. “Come on,” Steve said gently, resting his arm across his shoulders and steering them to the barn door and back towards the house in time to catch the sun setting prettily on the horizon, the wash of bright colors catching Bucky’s eye. 

When they got securely inside with no complications, Steve dropped his arm from across Bucky’s shoulders and paused just long enough to brush gentle fingers along his jawline before moving to the kitchen. With carefully precise movements, Steve went about pulling various ingredients, pans, and utensils to begin dinner. It wasn’t uncommon on the surface. Whoever returned ahead of the rest of the Pack usually started dinner preparations so that it could be ready when they were all together. 

But there was something...off with Steve’s movements. Bucky frowned and tilted his head just slightly in concentration as he studied the Alpha, trying to understand what was bothering him about the movements. There was tension there, as though he was carefully controlling how he made each and every one. Not like he was when he was suppressing the Alpha instincts and mannerisms but more like the way he had so very carefully moved to avoid hurting someone he cared about, very similar to the cautious way he held himself and shifted Bucky and Natasha off of him on the night Bucky had told them about Rumlow and Rollins. His confusion molded into concern and he slowly approached, dragging his hand across the cool surface of the countertop as he moved. “Steve?” He prompted quietly.

Steve looked up from his task, his eyes widening in a semblance of surprise and then softening into a warmth that Bucky only just realized was familiar. That soft, warm expression was one he had seen repeatedly over the past month and had grown fond of. It was only just then, following the sweet moment between them in the barn, that Bucky fully recognized the unmasked, possessive affection for what it was. Bucky smiled softly in return, making the few short steps to close the space between them. Not giving himself the opportunity to overthink or second guess the decision, he stepped in behind Steve and wrapped his arms around the Alpha’s waist. With a soft pleased sigh, Bucky let his forehead rest tucked against the firm muscles of his shoulder.

Steve was still for a moment, as though startled into stillness by the hold. Slowly but surely, the tense line of his back eased palpably against the side of Bucky’s face. Steve’s large hand rose to cover Bucky’s where they rested over his abdomen and squeezed gently. Moving carefully as not to dislodge him, Steve returned his hands and attention to preparing dinner. 

Eventually, though, it wasn’t really practical for Steve to work with Bucky clinging to his back. With a small sigh, Bucky unwound his arms and stepped to the side and seamlessly jumped into his own tasks for the meal. Once the food--some sort of stew that Steve seemed to be making from memory--was on the stove, simmering away, Bucky set to cleaning up the small mess made on the countertops. He turned to put the extra vegetables back into the pantry but was stopped by a hand on his arm. Bucky blinked in surprise and shot a glance up to Steve who was watching him intently. 

Bucky tilted his head in question but before he managed to find the words to ask, Steve stepped closer. The Alpha carefully took the vegetables from Bucky’s hands and set them carelessly back on the counter. And then Steve was kissing him again. Firmly, insistently, but unfathomably gentle. A small noise of surprise escaped Bucky but took only a beat for him to sink into it. He pressed his hands flat against Steve’s broad chest and slid them slowly upward to his shoulders, clinging firmly. He shuffled closer without even a notion of complaint when Steve’s hands and strong arms tugged him in as they wrapped around his waist. 

A low groan worked its way out of Steve’s throat, muffled by the press of lips, the sound drawing a shiver down Bucky’s spine. He could feel the slick press of Steve’s tongue and opened easily to the deepening of the kiss. Meeting with his own tentatively stroking licks. Bucky let his fingers brush lightly over the glands at the base of his neck and Steve’s arms tightened in response. Their hands roamed and traveled and switched, Bucky clinging to the defined, narrow waist, fingers curling tightly into the thin material of Steve’s shirt covering it. Steve’s large hands cradling Bucky’s face, mindful of the bruising from the earlier collision with the wall. 

Slowly, Steve withdrew, ending with a few slow, languid presses of lips and catching Bucky’s lower between both of his. They were both breathless and panting lowly when he pulled back fully, staring intently at Bucky once more. Bucky, for his part, could only stare back. Steve’s thumb dragged slowly across Bucky’s lower lip, Steve’s darkened eyes following the movement. He wet his own lips and met Bucky’s gaze once more.

“They can’t have you,” he said lowly but a hint of desperation in his tone that twisted anxiously in Bucky’s chest. “Gods, they can’t have you. I won’t let them, Buck.”

“I know,” Bucky responded quietly.

“When--,” Steve paused for a moment, eyes flicking over Bucky’s expression as though attempting to find some unknown, unspoken answer. “When this is over. When it’s safe. I want--I’d like to court you. Properly.”

Bucky felt his face heat and his eyes widened in surprise. It shouldn’t have been a surprise perhaps. Maybe he should have had some sort of indication that those words, or something to at affect, was coming. But it still surprised him to hear _those_ words spoken from _that_ mouth. He must have been too quiet for too long because Steve’s expressioned tightened slightly as though forcing away any visual tells of his disappointment or determination.

“We don’t,” Steve started, and then stopped before taking a breath and starting again. “It doesn’t have to be right away. And you’re--you’re always welcome here no matter what. You belong here, with us. The capacity doesn’t matter. But...everything’s telling me that you’re it. And maybe you are and maybe, in the end, I’m not. Maybe I’m not for you. But...I think--I think it’s worth following through. I-I’d like to court you, to deserve you, but I understand--”

Bucky couldn’t handle it, hearing the uncertainty and the reminder of past hurts, but he couldn’t form the words necessary to get the big idiot Alpha to stop talking, stop _doubting_ . With a low huff of amused annoyance, Bucky leaned in and cut off the rambling statement with a firm kiss. This time, Bucky gathered his courage to be able to prove to the Alpha that he already _was_ deserving and that yes, _always yes_ , to the courting and belonging with them, with _him_. It was more than Bucky ever thought he’d get, and everything that he never knew he could want, let alone be allowed to have. He pressed bodily into the firm line of the Alpha’s body, his hands sliding around the narrow waist to wrap fingers into the shirt at his back, clinging tightly. 

The affection stretched between them. And Bucky found himself sinking and falling more into this Alpha who a mere month ago would have been little more than a dream. It made him fear for what was to come. It was unlikely that the upcoming conflict was going to be bloodless. For the Pack it was personal and they protected what was theirs voraciously. But Bucky had come to understand that if it was something they could do without bloodshed, they would avoid it if possible. With the current enemy though, Bucky didn’t think that was going to be a realistic option. The idea that any of them might be injured--or worse--was unbearable. 

Steve must have sensed something of his wandering thoughts because the kiss gentled and he withdrew once more. He pulled back enough to study Bucky in concern but Bucky just shook his head and quirked a smile, “I-I want that. A lot, actually.”

Steve blinked in confusion until the response settled and then a slow, pleased grin crept across his face. “When it’s safe then. I-I’m pretty gone for you, y’know?” He said quietly.

Bucky chuckled slightly self-consciously and bobbed his head, “Yeah, me too.”

Steve grinned and pressed another short but so very sweet kiss to his lips before tugging him into a tight hug. Bucky closed his eyes into the embrace and forced down a telling shiver when he felt Steve’s nose tuck gently into his neck. Unlike his previous experiences with being scented, this was...affectionate, intimate. It was _good_ . It was pleasing to know that an Alpha-- _this_ Alpha--wanted this, wanted _him_. Maybe even drew the same peace and comfort from Bucky that Bucky found in Steve’s scent. 

Steve pressed a soft kiss to the gland and pulled back from the embrace with obvious reluctance. “I think the others should be back before too much longer.”

“Yeah, “ Bucky agreed. He watched Steve watching him for a long moment before shaking focus back into his mind. With a soft sigh, Bucky reached for the vegetables once more and set to his previous task of cleaning up the mess they had made of the kitchen. Steve remained unmoving for a few beats before joining in to help. Bucky stretched to pull plates down from the upper cabinet when a sudden change caught his attention.

He frowned and turned to Steve who had gone completely and utterly still, a look of furious concentration painting his expression. Bucky opened his mouth to speak but Steve raised his hand quickly to halt the words and he snapped his jaw closed again. There was something in the tension of Steve’s body--the particular way he squared his shoulders, the tilt of his jaw and look in his eyes saying that he was in ‘Alpha mode’--that drew Bucky to high alert. He moved back to Steve’s side, waiting with as much patience as he could gather.

“Listen and don’t speak,” Steve’s voice said, low and urgent. “Get to one of the rifles. Don’t move suddenly, don’t draw attention. Move as naturally as you can. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but Steve--”

“When you’re set, I want you in the upstairs north-facing window. Sam’s bedroom, the window nearest the closet. ‘Bout time for you to show me your trick with shooting a coin off a can without chipping paint.” Steve instructed lowly. He paused for a moment and pressed a quick kiss, laced with a hint of urgent desperation. When he pulled back, he glanced between the front door and the windows at the front of the house before looking back to Bucky. “Now Bucky, _go_ ,” Steve urged, taking a step backwards to turn off the burner under the food and slowly making his way through the living room. He paused once near the coffee table, reaching casually underneath where Bucky knew a set of pistols to be stored. 

Bucky scrambled to follow the directive, making his way to the hutch on the far side of the refrigerator and pulling the glass doors open of the upper compartments. He reached blindly behind a row of dishes and lifted the rifle up and over, careful not to dislodge anything breakable. He crouched and opened the bottom left most drawer and quickly loaded the weapon with quick, efficient motions, stashing extra rounds in his pockets before shoving the drawer closed again. He paused still crouched in front of the hutch to take a deep breath and reach into the training he’d relied so heavily on throughout the last several years.

He slowly stood, squaring his shoulders and making his way towards the stairs. A quick glance to his left told him that Steve had loaded his weapons and was carefully peering through the front windows. 

The house shuddered with the force of an explosion from the direction of the front of the house and Bucky stumbled at the combined sensation of the unsteady ground, the burst of light, and loud, growling roar of the blast itself. Catching his balance with a hand braced against the wall, Bucky changed directions, slapping at light switches as he went, sending the house into darkness. This was a different situation all together, there was no way he was going to leave Steve to handle explosions without having his back covered. Even if he did have to deal with a pissy, overprotective Alpha in the process.

As he moved forward, Bucky took stock of the current situation. The explosion hadn’t been far from the house itself. The barn? Oh gods, Steve was going to be devastated when all was said and done if the animals were hit. The force of it had blown the windows, shattered glass and wood littered the furniture and the floor. He reached Steve’s side right as the Alpha moved to check the window once again and Bucky wrenched him back.

The Alpha had taken some of the glass, small cuts over his face and arms. But he didn’t seem to be noticing the damage. No. Steve wasn’t focused on any of the pain. Steve...Steve was _pissed_. The hot burning wildfire raging through his scent echoing the fury glinting in his eyes and the set of his jaw. Not that Bucky could blame him. These assholes brought the fight into Steve’s territory and were attacking Steve’s home. 

“Why aren’t you upstairs?” Steve demanded.

“Not leaving you without backup,” Bucky responded shortly. “I can use a rifle short range just as well as long range.”

“No,” Steve said flatly. “I need you up in the windows.”

“It’s not happening, Steve,” Bucky argued defiantly, eyes narrowed. “I can handle myself.”

“And if they start using Commands again?”

“Then we keep them occupied enough that they don’t have time to talk,” Bucky countered.

“No,” Steve repeated. “Not a good idea.”

“Not an option,” Bucky responded stubbornly.

“They can’t have you, Bucky,” Steve stressed the words. 

“Tell me, Steve,” Bucky said, brow arched pointedly. “How would this little conversation be going if I were Natasha?” He paused for effect but then began speaking again before the Alpha could formulate a response. “Because I know she wouldn’t be shoved upstairs to be kept safe by the big strong Alphas. I am just as capable. This is just as much my fight as it is yours. I’m _not_ gonna just sit by and let you rush headlong into this without me.”

Steve grit his teeth in frustration. Bucky could sympathize, he was feeling awfully annoyed too. Damned Alphas. “Fine,” he growled, crouching to the chest to the right of the door and withdrawing another loaded pistol and passing it to Bucky. 

Anything else he might have said was interrupted by another explosion followed almost immediately by the tell-tale sound of rifle shots. The dishes in the hutch that Bucky had so carefully worked around when accessing his own rifle shattered, showering the floor with more glass as one of the rounds impacted. 

“We can’t stay here,” Bucky said urgently. “They’re gonna have us pinned.”

“We need a better line of sight,” Steve frowned. “Get a headcount and see what we’re up against. See what the hell they’re doing to my home. We need a plan of attack.”

“Hmm,” Bucky tilted his head, shifting slightly and catching movement out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve got a pretty good plan,” he muttered as he swung around, pistol ignored in favor of planting the rifle to his shoulder and fired through the window to the right of the fireplace, the figure folded in on itself and collapsed when his shot struck true. He allowed himself a very brief moment of smug satisfaction. He hadn’t lost his touch, good to know.

“Care to share with the class?” Steve bit out, bringing his own weapon up and in a ready position. 

“Sure,” Bucky smirked. “Attack.”

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head but Bucky could see the small upward tick of his lips. The small smile dropped to a grimace when more rifle fire cut through the house and he scowled darkly. “We need to get out of here. Before these assholes bring the whole goddamned house down on us.”

Bucky paused, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the various hiding spots and weapons stashes that Steve had pointed out to him weeks prior. Back then, Bucky had been slightly stunned at the amount of weaponry Steve and the Pack had cached away in the seemingly normal house. “We need to distract them. Get them looking elsewhere while we try and slip out. I’ve got an idea.”

“Go, I’ll cover you,” Steve urged raising into a low crouch, eyes roving to the various windows and hyper alert amidst the chaos. Bucky darted forward, keeping his body low. Another round of weapons fire followed his movements and Bucky swore under his breath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter:  
> Bucky deals with the fallout from his interactions with Rollins last chapter. Steve comforts him and feeling confessions happen only to be interrupted by an ambush at the Pack's house.
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> We hear from Natasha


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! Here is the next chapter of this fun little fic.
> 
> As with the previous couple of chapters, this one has some intensity and some hints at heavier topics. Jump to the end notes if you want a heads up of what to expect.
> 
> I know some of you were disappointed that last chapter jumped straight to the barn and the house. Well never fear, we get to see Steve's reaction to Bucky's attempted abduction in this chapter. I hope that it was worth waiting for!
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think :)
> 
> See you again on Sunday!

It had been a sight, when the Alpha had finally made his way to the tavern. The idle, teasing conversation that Natasha and Sam had kept Bucky distracted with had obviously gone a long way to putting the Omega more at ease following what Natasha knew had to be a terrifying experience. But it was obvious by his reaction to Steve’s sudden presence that he had been attempting to put them at ease as much as they were doing for him. Natasha thought that might have been more for Sam’s benefit than hers though, considering the guilt she knew was plaguing both Sam and Steve due to their past connections with the men responsible. 

When Steve arrived, she was immediately able to read the tightly coiled tension of an Alpha prepared to do whatever it took to protect his Pack. His eyes were sharp as he scanned the room. His posture had relaxed just slightly when he caught sight of Natasha, Sam, and Bucky near the bar, only to ramp up tighter when Bucky turned on his stool to face him. Steve had gone stock still, the scent of his protective anger filling the main room of the tavern like a heavy fog.

“What happened?” He demanded as he strode forward, carefully taking Bucky’s face in his hands to examine the obvious injury. It seemed as though all the anxieties and fears that Bucky had suppressed in an attempt to put Sam and Natasha at ease flooded out of the Omega when he found himself in the presence of a trusted Alpha.  _ His _ trusted Alpha, Natasha suspected as she watched him all but melt tremblingly into Steve’s careful touch. She understood though, Steve had that effect on all of them. She was no exception.

“Rollins is what happened,” Sam answered. “Tried to pull a grab and go. Clint’s got him pinned down in the back.”

Natasha could tell that Steve wanted to immediately find them and let loose the rage that she could both see and smell radiating from him. But she could also see that those violent instincts were warring viciously with the ones that had him wrapping an arm around the injured Omega and nosing affectionately into his hair. She averted her eyes at the intimacy and unfiltered affection between the pair, catching on Sam’s soft expression instead. The Beta glanced back at her and smiled fondly and Natasha smirked at the noticeable change in Sam’s behavior towards the other Omega over the past several weeks.

“You okay?” Steve asked quietly, broad hands stroking comfortingly over Bucky’s back. The Omega nodded his head against where he had burrowed it against Steve’s chest, arms slipping around Steve’s waist and clinging tightly. 

“He used Commands,” Bucky said, voice equally soft but strained. “Would’ve worked if Clint and Sam hadn’t been there. Clint got rid of the Commands.”

Steve glanced up long enough to shoot Sam a grateful look before turning his attention back to Bucky. “Let me go help Clint take care of this and we’ll head home, okay?”

“Steve, we got this,” Sam interrupted. “Clint’s got it held down and between the three of us, we can handle Rollins.” Steve hesitated, his eyes shooting toward the back hallway and then dropping to look at the Omega still clinging to him. Sam offered an understanding smile but nodded his head towards the door. “Go on, Rogers, get him settled back at home. We’ll be there as soon as we wrap this up here.”

“You sure?” Steve asked even as his arm tightened around Bucky, easing him off of the stool and into the safety of being tucked into Steve’s side.

“If the three of us can’t handle one man then we’ve got bigger problems than one knothead Alpha,” Natasha said pointedly. 

Steve took the quip in stride and nodded, “Be safe and I’ll see you at home, then.”

So when Steve led Bucky from the tavern, Sam and Natasha agreed to stay behind to help Clint. It made sense to let Steve deal with the Omega. Natasha knew that, out of all of them, Steve was the best to handle it. Natasha was sure that she could but not without imparting more of herself than she was willing to. Not to mention that the affinity between the pair was undeniable. 

No, Steve was the right man for the job. 

Clint remained in the back hallway with Rollins. Eventually, they would have to relocate him to a cell but that wasn’t something they were concerning themselves with at the moment. The threat to their Pack took precedence as far as she was concerned. 

Natasha never claimed to be the most altruistic sort.

She helped Sam finish closing up the tavern. They worked in silence, though it wasn’t strained or awkward. From the first time she had met the Beta man, there had been an understanding. They had originally come together for Steve. Because of Steve. They got along well enough in the beginning but after enough time together, Natasha knew that she adored Sam just as much as she did Steve, just differently. Their dynamics were different. Not less. Not lacking. Just...different. 

She could see a similar strain in the tension of his jaw though. Considering the conversation that she had walked in on earlier that day, Natasha knew that Sam was shouldering the blame for what Rumlow and Rollins had become just as much as Steve. Though, no one did the sacrificial blame-game the way that Steve Rogers did. 

Sam didn’t know though. He didn’t know the details, the truth about her history. The past that she had confessed to their Alpha that neither he nor Clint knew. She hadn’t told them. What had come so easily in confiding with Steve, lodged like a stone in her throat with the other two. It was bitter, knowing that she’d not been fully honest with them. 

She had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before she wouldn’t have a choice in the matter. Everything was coming in a full circle. Natasha was sure that before this whole thing was over, every little secret that she had would be laid bare to Clint, Sam, and Bucky. She could only hope that they would understand. That they would still help her. Help  _ them _ . She had meant what she said to Bucky. They were going to take the whole operation down. Every branch of the network. Every buyer. Every informant. If she had to burn with them...then that’s what it was. That’s what she deserved for all of horrible things she had been required to do and things she had to ignore during the deep cover assignment.

They had rejoined Clint in the back hallway once they had finished with the closing routine. Natasha leaned back against the far wall, arms crossed under her chest with Sam just to her right, his arms brushing lightly against hers where they bent to tuck his hands behind his back. He and Steve both did that. Something she attributed to their shared military background. Rumlow and Rollins tended to stand the same way.

It was interesting, she thought, seeing the blade she’d gifted Clint with a few years prior embedded in one of her former handler’s forearm. She wondered if Rollins remembered her. Recognized her. Maybe he would have had he not been so delirious from the pain. 

Part of her was afraid that he would. Part of her was tired of hiding that part of her past.

If hiding gave her the edge to take them down though? She’d weather the hurt and anger from the two men standing on either side of her.

She hadn’t realized that she had been leaning into Clint until his arm shifted around her, tucking her absently into his side. He didn’t realize it, but that absent-minded Clint was the one she wanted. Not the one that went out of his way to be the ‘proper’ Alpha. But the ridiculous goofball, that genuinely  _ good _ man, and a good Alpha. The silly man who juggled whatever was in reach just because he needed to keep his hands busy and couldn’t win a game of cards of any sort to save his life. 

“Standing here starin’ at him isn’t going to do us any good,” Sam said finally, breaking the silence. “Steve isn’t coming back here.”

“I pull the knife and we’re gonna have even more of a mess on our hands,” Clint pointed out.

“Yeah, but we can’t just leave him here,” Sam countered. “Not lookin’ to leave this asshole pinned to my floor.”

“Let him bleed out,” Natasha said, glaring at the man on the floor. “I’ll even volunteer for clean up.”

Suddenly, Rollins started laughing, low and tinged with obvious pain, “I knew we’d find you eventually, Natalia. Catching you and our asset at the same time and in the same place? Even we couldn’t have planned it so perfectly.”

Natasha felt the men on either side of her stiffen and placed a hand on their forearms to still their automatic reactions. “And yet, here you are,” she said, tone flat and controlled. “Catching neither of us.”

Rollins smirked through his pain, “Naive little Omega. Our friends are on their way to retrieve the asset from Captain Rogers.”

“Good luck with that,” Natasha smirked, shoving down the feeling of dread at the big Alpha being potentially blindsided by these assholes without the Pack to have his back.

“Luck isn’t needed,” the man said blandly, unruffled. “I think Rumlow wanted to handle that one personally.”

“Rumlow’s in for a rude awakening if he thinks he can take on Steve in his own territory and win,” Sam asserted. 

“We prepared for that,” Rollins retorted, smirk firmly in place. “See, we know how righteous and protective the good Captain always was. The way he always babied you after Ops. He wouldn’t want to keep his  _ darling _ Omega here after I tried to grab him, would he? No, he would return to the safety of home.”

“You set him up,” Clint said coldly, his muscles coiling and tensing under Natasha’s hand.

“Not just him,” Rollins grinned suddenly, his attention drifting to lock onto Sam. “Wilson, how’s it feel to know you sent your Alpha into an ambush? All because you wanted to prove you can handle clean up? That you could take me on?” His attention shifted again to rest on Natasha and she tensed automatically. His eyes narrowed and he shifted himself up onto his elbow, mindful of the blade piercing through his opposite arm. 

“Natalia,” he said lowly before his tone shifted and Command leached into his words. “Kill them, quickly and efficiently.”

Natasha grit her teeth as the words washed over her and her body moved automatically to obey. She shifted her weight quickly to throw an elbow first into Clint’s abdomen and then into Sam’s with barely a blink between each hit. She caught a kick at the back of Clint’s knee, taking him down to the ground with a grunt of pain. Her eyes burned hot and damp as she made to follow through with a hit to the back of Clint’s head when he doubled over from the initial blows. A firm hand on her shoulder drew up long-honed fight instincts and Natasha twisted sharply, utilizing momentum and the assailant’s weight against him until Sam was pinned face down on the floor. Before the man on the floor at her feet had the time to groan in pain, thick arms wrapped tightly around her torso, pinning her arms to her side. Natasha instinctively snarled in an attempt to fight the hold.

“Natasha. Natasha,  _ stop _ ,” Clint’s voice Commanded insistently in her ear. Natasha sank back against his chest, body trembling as she was released from the Command. She  _ hated _ the lack of control. Clint just held onto her, the tight hold loosening as his hand dragged up and down her arm. “You’re okay. You’re okay, we’re okay.”

Natasha willed herself to believe it--she knew the damage that she was capable of, after all--and looked to Sam only to find the Beta glaring at their captive. Before anyone could speak another word, Sam let out a viciously angry snarl and launched himself at Rollins, colliding with him in a way that obviously jarred his wrist, drawing a shout of pain. The shout was immediately silenced when Sam drew back and swung his fists forward in a repeating pattern of brutal accuracy. He was panting when he pulled back again but only paused long enough to wrench the knife from where it was embedded into the floor and shift it in his grip.

“Sam--” Clint called out, clearly torn between going to the enraged Beta and keeping Natasha tucked securely against him. “Sam, stop. He’s gone. It’s done.” 

Sam paused, hovering over Rollins’s still body, arm frozen in place mid-swing. He took a slow, deep breath and got carefully to his feet and approached. Sam ignored Clint for the moment, his dark eyes locked searchingly on Natasha. One red-stained, ruined hand raised and fingertips brushed gently over her cheek, tucking her hair affectionately behind her ear and then he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. Natasha automatically leaned into the contact, warmed by the acceptance even if they didn’t know nearly everything. 

When he drew himself back up again, Natasha could see the effort he expended attempting to pull himself back together. He handed Clint the bloodied knife with a set jaw--something Natasha suspected he picked up from the many years around Steve--and squared shoulders as though presenting himself for some sort of reprimand. “He wasn’t gonna do that to her. Not to her and not to  _ us _ ,” he said by way of defense.

“Wasn’t worried about that,” Clint said easily, shrugging off the non-apology. “But we got more important things to deal with right now.”

“Like getting to Steve,” Natasha said, carefully scraping up what was left of her strength and reluctantly pulling herself from Clint’s hold. 

“Natasha,” Sam said, tone seriously. “On the ride, we need to know what you know.”

She winced slightly but took a deep breath and on the exhale, “I know. But it needs to wait until Steve’s safe. After. I swear I’ll tell you everything but  _ after.”  _ She could still remember it, all of it. The whole interaction that brought her into Steve’s sphere and the genuine kindness that kept her there, made her want to  _ stay _ there.

_ The bar was actually pretty well packed that night. Though, that couldn’t really be a surprise considering they aimed for these types of nights. Nights when groups of rowdy Alphas and Betas descended with the intent of drinking themselves stupid and hoping for a lucky night. Thinking that they might find a daring little Omega that might be interested in a little fun. _

_ Nights like these always had one or two outliers though. Ones that came to watch, to look. Perhaps lay their claim if they played their cards right. Most of them were genuine. Good Alphas looking for the opportunity to prove it to the right Omega.  _

_ Unfortunately those Alphas weren’t the ones Natasha was sent to seek out. She was sent in when interested parties needed to be found. The ones that weren’t concerned with seeking out a willing Omega, just the one they had decided they wanted. And, of course, cost was not something those types generally concern themselves with.  _

_ Though she had been given a different task tonight. She wasn’t to gather information and bring it back to the handlers. She wasn’t sitting back, watching and listening, perhaps stirring up conversation to learn more if the situation called for it. No, tonight was different. Tonight she was expected to draw eyes, draw interest. She was expected to draw in her own potential buyer. Her new Alpha. _

_ She wouldn’t succeed. She knew that already. When she was given this assignment, told to go deep cover for this new but already powerful trafficking ring, she had known that it might come to this. That they might eventually find her status as an Omega--and an aesthetically pleasing one at that--to be of more value than her capabilities.  _

_ She also knew, though, that they were watching her. There were always eyes on her on nights like these, no matter the instructions given. She could feel them like a piercing weight on her back. Natasha knew that she at least had to put on a good show if she were to be believable, however. _

_ Settling her resolve, she pulled herself up onto a stool at the far end of the bar, between two men that were undeniably Alphas. Natasha smiled up at the one on her right, a large blonde who blinked in surprise at her sudden appearance but offered an open, friendly smile in return. From his posture--back to the room though obviously aware of seemingly everything going on behind him--Natasha could pin him as one of the outliers of the outliers. Not here to find a friend for the night nor something permanent, rather simply there for the environment.  _

_ Natasha signaled to the bartender--a tall, decently built Omega man, dark hair, light eyes--for a drink and settled into her stool with forced calm. They didn’t speak, though the large Alpha carried nothing in his posture, no change that she could see, that suggested he was unwelcoming of conversation. His smile remained friendly and posture open. And, Natasha noticed, his nose never flared tellingly and his eyes stayed respectfully on her face whenever their gazes met. Somehow, though, the silence felt natural and comfortable in a way Natasha couldn’t quite explain. She really wasn’t fond of things that she couldn’t explain. _

_ When her drink was empty, Natasha nudged the glass back across the bar in easy reach of the bartender and slipped off of her stool, letting her hand linger on the Alpha’s arm as though using the hold to assist. He met her gaze again as she departed and offered another small smile before returning his attention to his own drink. _

_ It wasn’t until much later, when she was cornered by her handlers that she thought anything about that Alpha again. The men were hissing warnings and vague threats. Most of them missed their mark but the threat of utilizing Commands to enforce their will sent a shiver down her spine that she fought to suppress. And then, suddenly, a large, heavy arm slipped around her waist--though the hand was exceedingly careful not to stray or touch anything that they ought not--and she could feel the weight of an affectionate nuzzle into her hair at her temple. A rich, earthy scent reaching her nose and pulling her into an odd sense of safety. _

_ “Ready to get out of here, sweetheart?” A low, deep voice asked softly, laced with affection that a strange Alpha couldn’t truly feel. _

_ Natasha stole a quick, sidelong glance and was surprised to see the blonde Alpha that she had sat next to at the bar. She looked back to the two Alpha handlers in front of her who were glaring at the newcomer and made her decision. Purposefully relaxing into the man’s side, she looked up and smiled, “Of course, darling. I was just saying goodnight.” _

_ He wasn’t meeting her eyes this time though, rather he was pinning the two handlers with an intensely searching look. Natasha nudged him slightly before he managed to make the whole situation that much worse. The last thing she needed or wanted was to be caught in the middle of some ridiculous Alpha pissing contest. The man’s expression immediately relaxed and he smiled sheepishly down at her. Without glancing back at the handlers, he led her away with a gentle hand at her waist. _

_ “I’m sorry about that,” he spoke lowly, a hint of anxiousness and guilt in his voice. “I know you could probably have handled that yourself. I guess I-I just thought maybe you shouldn’t have to. But it really wasn’t my place to jump in like that.” He paused and winced, “Or touch you. I’m sorry.” _

_ What kind of Alpha was this? Natasha narrowed her eyes, head tilted in what she could freely admit was confusion. “Yes, I could have handled it,” Somehow, she added mentally.  _

_ “Right,” he winced again, shifting awkwardly as they stepped outside, withdrawing his arm from around her. Natasha hated how she felt bereft of the warmth the steady weight had offered. “Right. Sorry. I-I’m probably gonna sound like an idiot here but...I really don’t like the look of those guys. I don’t think they’re gonna leave you alone.” _

_ He wasn’t wrong. At best, they would be minutes behind to ensure that eyes stayed on her as often as possible. She glanced back at the door, her own expression tightening subconsciously in discomfort of the situation. It wasn’t her first deep cover but it was proving to be the most taxing. “And accepting the offer to be walked home by another strange Alpha is a much smarter idea?” She asked sarcastically. _

_ The Alpha winced again, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, “Yeah, no, of course. I-I’m not...I’m not expecting anything. I won’t even walk the whole way. Swear it.” _

_ The rambling awkwardness somehow clipped away at her resolve and she rolled her eyes, “Fine. But keep your hands to yourself,” she said with a sigh, turning away and walking back towards her temporary apartment. The Alpha fell into step beside her, a respectful foot of space between them. _

_ “I am sorry, by the way,” he said moments later. “For jumping in the way that I did.” _

_ “It’s fine,” she waved off the apology. “It’s an Alpha thing.” _

_ “Maybe,” he shrugged. “It wasn’t because you’re an Omega, though. I’d have done the same or similar for Betas and Alphas who’re being harrassed. ” _

_ “Omegas are helpless little damsels, haven’t you heard?” Natasha said with a small smirk. _

_ He snorted in evident amusement, “Sure, let me go ’head and tell my Ma that. See how far that would’ve gotten me.” _

_ Natasha felt her smirk turn into a slightly more genuine smile, “We’re tougher than we’re given credit for.” _

_ “I know,” he smiled softly. “Like I said, I didn’t do it ‘cause you’re an Omega. Just because you can handle it yourself, doesn’t really mean you ought to have to. Couldn’t just sit back and watch that sort of thing happen.” _

_ “Hmm, a true gentleman, it seems,” she quipped, taking pleasure in the bright flush that blossomed over his face.  _

_ “Yeah,” he said with a small, shy laugh. “Sorry.” _

_ “Oh, stop apologizing,” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Idiot Alpha.” _

_ Somehow, the comment seemed to just make him grin. Like she said, big idiot Alpha.  _

_ He had kept his word though, conversation stayed limited and casual. No names or other personal information was asked for or exchanged and he stopped a half a block from her building. With a small, awkward good night, he turned back the opposite direction, ensuring that he turned the corner well before she approached whichever building was hers. _

_ Strange Alpha. _

_ Natasha didn’t often get taken in by her curiosities. She rarely allowed herself the luxury. But after his save, she had been pulled aside by her handlers, interrogated for information about her potential buyer that had gotten tangled in her web. She hadn’t even had a name to give them. Remembering his kind, albeit incredibly awkward, behavior, Natasha thought that if worse came to worse, there were worse Alphas to be sold off to. Part of her hated that line of thought, being sold off would result in losing the months and months of work that had gotten her this deep to begin with.  _

_ The rest of her was so tired and disgusted with every little thing she had been forced to do in the name of maintaining her cover that she was ready to be done. To simply wash her hands clean of it. _

_ Not that it mattered either way. But regardless, the lingering thought pushed her to indulge in her curiosity more than she would typically allow herself. She found the Alpha, apparently named Steve Rogers, again with relative ease but contented herself to watch and learn. Figure out what she could about the man.  _

_ The frustrating part, however, was that no matter how well she set herself up to blend in he always seemed to catch on to her. And always with that surprised but warm and welcoming smile. Like he hadn’t expected to see her but was pleased about it anyway. Asking after her wellbeing, as though he truly cared about the answer. Offering to share his food if he happened to have any but, Natasha had noticed very early on, never anything that was particularly sweet. The kindness and simple respect had been startling. And irritating. _

_ Did the man seriously not realize when he was essentially being stalked? No sense of self-preservation at all. Idiot Alpha. _

_ He would glance over her enough to ensure that she was well and unharmed but never his eyes never lingered as an interested Alpha might. Perhaps it was odd how reassuring that was but after so long of being seen only for her Omega status, she found that she begrudgingly appreciated it. Eventually, the bright smiles and quick glances were traded for warm, affectionate grins and tight but gentle hugs. Eventually the polite ‘Natasha’ was shortened to a loving ‘Tash’, which she found she loved and hated in equal measures.  _

_ Eventually, Natasha had enough of it all, the deep cover, the handlers, the whole network that she was complicit to, and told him the truth.  _

_ All of it.  _

_ Natasha watched him warily afterwards. She had expected disgust and anger. Had braced herself for the rejection that was sure to follow such a confession. Instead, the Alpha just tucked her into his side affectionately, nosing her temple as he’d taken to doing, and offered to help her leave. He and his friend Sam had become disillusioned with the city and were considering heading west, he had explained. Find something new and different to make theirs. She could come too, if she wanted. It was offered so sweetly and earnestly, despite the horrid tale that she had just finished telling that Natasha was taken aback. For a long moment all she was able to do was tuck her head into his shoulder and draw deep breaths to calm her shaking, his large hand running gentle strokes up and down her back acting as a ground.  _

_ When they carefully began planning the details of the departure, the Handlers somehow caught wind of it. They cornered Steve and Natasha when he was walking her back to her apartment one evening. Natasha witnessed Steve’s protective Alpha rage for the first time that night but what surprised her even more was the way he seamlessly fought beside her rather than tucking her safely behind him and taking the men on himself. Trusted her at his back while he protected hers from attack. When the three men sent to eliminate Steve and recapture Natasha were on the ground, bloodied and still, Steve gave her the familiar single, searching look over before tugging her into his side and walking them the rest of the way to her apartment.  _

_ She was packed and temporarily relocated to stay with Steve and Sam within the hour. There had been no blushing or stammering or apologies from the Alpha. Only the insistence that she let them have her back. Not that she needed protection. But that he had wanted to have her back against her enemies. Natasha had hesitated only seconds before agreeing. They left the city a few short days later. It soothed her to watch Steve treat Sam--and later Clint--with the same soft affection that he used with her. For Steve it seemed like it really wasn’t a matter of Alpha, Beta, or Omega. Not entirely, anyway. It had been a very long time since she’d felt so safe. Since she had felt like she had a home. Now, she had a home and the tentative beginnings of a Pack to belong to. _

And now her home and her Pack were under attack. They were trying to take this away from her. 

Like hell.

Natasha eyed the sun sinking below the horizon, the weight in her gut sinking just as quickly. She wasn’t sure what she would do if they were too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter: We get Steve's reaction to Bucky's near abduction and the rest of the Pack deals with Rollins after they leave. They learn that it was an intentional set up to split up the Pack and leave Steve and Bucky more vulnerable. Rollins uses Commands on Natasha to have her try to kill Sam and Clint (spoiler: it doesn't work, thanks Clint :) ). Natasha remembers when she met Steve.
> 
> Next Chapter: Steve and Bucky under attack back at the House.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday again!
> 
> Here is chapter 12 which means there are only _three_ updates left before we reach the end. I am both sad and excited to be reaching the final chapters. I hope you've enjoyed the trip as much as I have!
> 
> Anyway, as with the last few chapters, this is another intense one so go ahead a jump to end notes if you want to avoid being surprised.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Steve had to admit that Bucky’s plan, destructive and inelegant as it might have been, had worked like a charm. 

He had been too busy keeping an eye on the windows and the incoming fire to see exactly what the man was up to. One minute Bucky had been crouched next to Steve, and the next he had been swearing up a storm--something about ‘goddamned, motherfucking Alphas’, Natasha, and knot piercings, Steve  _ really  _ wasn’t sure he wanted to know--over having to all but dance around flying bullets while diving behind the kitchen counters. Steve could hear more glass shattering from the kitchen windows and the sound of Bucky opening and slamming various cabinets and drawers closed in a rush. Steve hated the feeling of inadequacy that blindsided him as he stood there unable to do anything to help while Bucky was taking whatever risk he thought was necessary to get them out of the house.

And then Bucky was carefully picking his way through the debris to get back to his side again. Steve had to fight down the instinctive urge to mark the Omega the very moment he was near enough, tightening his hands around the grips of his pistols to keep from reaching out. It wasn’t the time for that. 

Bucky flashed a slightly guilty, adrenaline-fueled grin in Steve’s direction and then struck a match and quickly lobbed whatever was in his hand through the already shattered window frame, a short second later Steve felt the fiery explosion. Mischief and smug satisfaction seeped into the Omega’s usually gentle scent and Steve couldn’t help the rush of fond amusement. Of course his Omega had a thing for blowing shit up. Clint could never find out about that particular shared interest. Another match, another window, another explosion. He repeated it once more and then grabbed Steve by the sleeve, dragging him backwards toward the door.

Taking the door was risky, Steve knew. Of all the potential egress points the house might have had, the door was easily the most obvious and the most expected. Steve loathed to use it, to make their movements that clear but with Bucky all but setting the opposite end of the house aflame, they really didn’t have many other options unless they wanted to attempt dropping from second story windows, which in Steve’s opinion, left them entirely too vulnerable. Steve brought his weapon up to the ready and shouldered in front of the Omega. However skilled he might be, there was no way Steve could let him take point in this tense situation. He’d rather force down every single shard of broken glass currently littering his living room floor.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Bucky tucking the butt of the rifle into his shoulder and disengage the safety mechanism without taking his eyes off of their surroundings. There was something dark in his expression, a coldly focused look in his eye that Steve hadn’t yet seen before. Gone was the soft, sweet, witty Omega that Steve had come to know and, yes, love. The smug satisfaction and thrill that had followed the explosions he’d caused was no longer visible either. In his place was the battle-hardened man that these assholes had molded and created. 

Steve wondered if this sort of change was what the Pack saw when they said he switched from ‘Steve’ to ‘Alpha’. 

Steve quickly checked that wandering part of his mind and focused on his surroundings as he quietly opened the front door, suddenly grateful that the frequent repairs meant that the hinges were well cared for and didn’t squeak at the movement. He sunk into his battle instincts and his senses, feeling Bucky slowly slip out behind him with near silent footsteps sweeping the sights of the rifle in the opposite direction of Steve’s. 

They needed to move. The porch was too exposed. Steve raised a hand to signal to Bucky who gave a brief motion of understanding. The part of his mind that wasn’t fully enveloped in the impending fight was somewhat relieved that, for all their many, many faults and failures, Rumlow and Rollins had put Bucky through some of the same training that Steve and Sam had given them. At least that meant the silent communication worked as seamlessly as it was meant to. They quickly descended the few steps from the porch, bodies held low, tense, and alert. There was a shout from the left and Steve swung in the direction of the sound, feeling Bucky move directly behind him, back to back. Bucky didn’t even seem to hesitate a moment before the sound of the rifle firing cracked through the air around them. 

Somehow, despite all the conversations they had in the past weeks, Steve’s mind had lingered most heavily on that  _ one name _ . That Brock Rumlow was involved in the trafficking organization that had left Natasha feeling tainted, stained and unworthy and had taken, used, and abused Bucky had dug its way into Steve’s thoughts and refused to let go. Perhaps that was understandable but it also caused him to overlook the simple fact that the asshole was just one man in an entire network of traffickers. It  _ shouldn’t _ have surprised Steve that they had come in force. But it did. Somehow his mind had set him up against Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins. Not Brock Rumlow and what looked to be at least a dozen men, all set on taking everything from Steve.

Steve could just  _ hear _ Sam’s exasperated lecture at the oversight. 

At some point in the frenzied onslaught that followed, Steve and Bucky had gotten separated and Steve found himself caught in hand-to-hand with several of the men Rumlow had brought along for this mess. He found himself immensely grateful that the Pack had continued to spar with one another over the years, despite no longer requiring it in their daily lives. 

He hated to admit it but it felt good. It felt good to release the flood of pent-up rage that had been building ever since he found Bucky’s battered body in his barn, rising to a boiling point each time something new was revealed about his time as their captive. The Alpha in him took keen satisfaction each time one of the men fell at his hands, whether it was from a physical blow or a fired bullet from the pistol in his grip, unable to get back up and cause more harm to those Steve loved. He felt damned near feral with the intensity of his anger but his mind was sharp and clear, hyper focused on the fight at hand. 

The only thing outside of the striking, blocking and rushing that Steve had the time to think, however, was that he’d yet to spot Rumlow in Bucky’s vicinity. Actually, he’d yet to see the man at all. Steve knew that he was there, somewhere. It figured that the man was cowardly enough to send everyone else in to do his dirty work while he sat back and watched from afar. 

But watching Bucky fight though, the short glances in the low evening light that he’d been able to catch...Steve swallowed thickly and shut down the distracting train of thought and forced his attention back on the men rushing him. He quickly discarded the emptied pistol and launched himself forward, tackling the man in front of him to the ground. Steve scrambled, striking out with fists and elbows and whatever else he could think to put the man down, stop him. Finally, he managed a firm grip on the man’s head and slammed it into the rocky ground as viciously as he could manage. 

Steve stumbled to his feet, wiping the dirt off his hand on his pants, taking a short moment to catch his breath. He scanned the grounds until he caught sight of Bucky fighting two unknown assailants with cold ferocity. His rifle had been discarded, the strap keeping it settled against his back instead of his hands and in its place he held a set of knives that he must have taken from Natasha’s stash in the kitchen and his expression was blank and his strikes were well-calculated and precise without even a moment of hesitation or movement wasted. Effortlessly blocking and ducking from the attacks and countering with his own smoothly elegant slices and jabs. And struck with deadly intensity. The first man dropped like a stone from a perfectly targeted knife throw to the, of all things, eyeball. Steve couldn’t help but admire the way Bucky seamlessly disregarded the fallen man to redouble his efforts against the one remaining.

He was beautiful like this, Steve thought idly. Everything and nothing like the sweet Omega who curled comfortably against his side on a regular basis. Gods he had it bad.

Before he could take another step toward Bucky, though, a sharp pain pierced his thigh and his leg tried to collapse under him, jolting a sharp cry from between clenched teeth. Steve stole a quick glance down, confirming his suspicions. Shot, rifle likely but straight through thankfully. It didn’t look like it struck the artery but damned if it didn’t hurt. He grit his teeth against a growl and forced himself forward. It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot and, considering their current situation, it was unlikely to be the last.

“That looks like it stings, Captain,” a mocking voice drew Steve’s attention upward sharply. Steve immediately snarled, body tensing in preparation for attack. Rumlow stood in front of him, rifle propped causally against his shoulder and cocky smirk on his face, his own posture and cloying scent radiating aggression. There was a split-second of stillness before Steve caught the slight shifting of weight. 

He barely had the moment to brace himself for the impact before Rumlow dropped the rifle and launched himself forward, grunting when they collided. It was only moments before Steve realized the dangerous disadvantage he had against his opponent. Usually, he would have been able to take Rumlow down easily. Steve had the advantage of size and mass as well as considerably more skill and training. Not to mention, so much more to lose if he were to fail. Now though, he was fighting injured and having to rely far too heavily on his left side after already fighting at full strength for far too long. 

Why  _ were _ they dragging this out?

Rumlow grinned through a vicious snarl when he managed to get the upper hand in their fight. Steve felt the bones in his cheek give under a particularly hard hit and stumbled backwards, taking a moment to spit the pooling blood from his mouth. 

“I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time,” Rumlow grinned. “When I’m done with you, I’ll reclaim our asset. Fights beautifully, doesn’t he? How do you think your friends will stand against him?”

Steve instinctively snarled at the blatant threat to his Pack and bolted forward, fist swinging upward to catch under Rumlow’s jaw. The man dodged and blocked with an arm, following through with an elbow towards Steve’s face. Steve reared back away from the strike, his hands coming up to knock the arm away, ducking under to land a punch at the man’s unprotected abdomen.

“Maybe,” Rumlow continued through a pained grunt and heavy breaths as they grappled, each straining to gain the upper hand, “Maybe I’ll pick up that other sweet little Omega of yours on our way out of town. She’ll catch us a pretty profit this time. No more slipping away in the night for little Natalia.”

Steve couldn’t stop the smirk, widening it spitefully when the amusement seemed to irritate the other man, “Not if she kills you first.”

“Your faith in those lesser has always been your undoing, Captain,” Rumlow sneered, reengaging the fight with brutal intensity. Steve felt a bolt of panic sear through him when he was suddenly scrambling backwards at the overwhelming onslaught. He could feel his own strength waning from the pain and loss of blood. He heard a loud crack of a round being fired somewhere nearby but couldn’t linger on the sound when pain exploded through his chest near the joint of his left shoulder. That brief moment of pained distraction gave Rumlow the opening he needed. The other Alpha launched forward again managing to land several consecutive blows to Steve’s head and torso that Steve was only able to redirect half of. A final hit to his gut had him stumbling backwards, the world spinning dizzily around him.

As his back hit the ground, Steve heard a vicious snarl of rage from near the smoldering barn. It wasn’t an Alpha’s growl but it was no less daunting. Why was his barn on fire? He blinked confusedly at the flames before his shaken memory caught up with him. Explosions, right. He attempted to force his breathing to even as much as possible, panting heavily through the pain and forced his eyes to reopen. He realized with a start that Bucky was between Rumlow and Steve’s injured form. He engaged the Alpha with movements that were no longer smooth precision, instead he was deadly, unleashed fury and there was a sharp, near-feral potency in his scent that Steve could smell clearly despite the damage to his face and the pain clouding his head. 

It was a matter of seconds before Bucky had forced the Alpha to his hands and knees on the ground, the Omega didn’t so much as hesitate when he dragged the dazed Alpha up by a harsh old on his hair into a kneeling position. He gripped Rumlow’s head in both hands and twisted sharply. As far as Steve could tell, he didn’t so much as pause after letting the man’s body drop limply to the ground before his icy eyes were scanning intently for his next target. The man that had Steve assumed to be the one who shot him--the  _ second _ time--drew nearer, squaring up in Alpha posturing with clear intent on taking the Omega down one way or another. 

Unable to keep his head lifted any longer, Steve dropped fully back onto the ground, eyes falling closed as he tried focusing solely on his breathing. Over the muted thud of a second body being dropped carelessly to the ground, Steve could hear the familiar reverberation of pounding hooves through the ground against his head, suggesting that whoever was left was making a run for it. Three loud crack of consecutive rifle shots told him that Bucky put a stop to that as well, especially if his comment about his marksmanship accuracy was true. 

It wasn’t until Bucky dropped to his knees beside him and he was able to keep his eyes open long enough to take in the Omega’s state, that Steve’s pain-hazy mind fully registered what he was seeing. 

He had obviously  _ heard _ about Omega Rage. Who hadn’t? The instinctive response is not unlike a bear going into a rage to protect their cubs. Or unlike an Alpha sent spiraling into the same at a direct threat to their mate, Pack, or territory. Only, generally speaking, an Omega sent into a feral rage was considerably more rare. But when they did...Well, Bucky’s deadly rampage was a good indicator of what a ferally enraged Omega was capable of. Despite the circumstances, Steve felt slightly warmed that he had somehow drawn that strong of an instinctive response.

Steve bared his teeth and had to bite back a snarl when a firm hand pressed steadily onto the wound on his chest. He forced his eyes back open against the radiating pain determined to keep some sort of focus, panting through tightly clenched teeth that only caused more pain to radiate out from Rumlow’s lucky hit to his face. Bucky’s face was still masked in the cold fury of the rage that had overtaken him. Eyes were sharp and icy grey shards, nothing like the awareness his eyes usually held. Steve raised a shaky hand to brush lightly against the Omega’s cheek, “E’sy Buck. Come on, sweetheart,” he panted, voice as shaky as his hands in response to the rush of adrenaline combined with the pain.

Bucky took a deep, stuttering breath and tipped forward until his forehead was pressed against Steve’s sternum. “We--We gotta--We gotta get,” Bucky said, pulling back upright and blinking back tears that seemed to rush his eyes as soon as the rage began to fade, fear and panic rising abruptly to take its place. Steve’s heart ached at the pungent scent of distress coming off of the man. “We gotta get this patched, Steve. I need to go get the kit.”

“The Pack should be here soon,” Steve said, letting his head fall solidly against the ground once more and closing his eyes. “Sam’ll know what to do. Sam always knows what to do.”

“There’s no time to wait for them,” Bucky insisted.”C’mon, Steve, d-don’t you dare…”

“You’re okay?” Steve asked, forcing his eyes wide open again and scanning what he could see for any sign of harm or injury. “They didn’t--”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Bucky soothed, something off in his voice. Steve frowned blearily, unable to place what was wrong, he tensed, attempting to push himself up onto his elbows to sit up, instincts gearing up again to destroy whatever threat was causing that particular hitch in Bucky’s voice. “Stop, Steve, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“Bucky, they didn’t? No Commands?”

“No, Alpha, no Commands,” Bucky answered, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to Steve’s forehead, careful not to shift any pressure from the wound. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah. Yeah, jus’--just stay a min’te,” Steve sighed, the sense of relief that Bucky was okay overtaking him and he could feel the effects of blood loss in the exhaustion seeping into his mind and the weight of his eyelids. Bucky was talking to him. Wasn’t he? What was he saying? Steve wasn’t sure. 

The Pack would be here soon. 

It was okay. 

Bucky was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter: Steve and Bucky take on Brock Rumlow and company back at the house. Steve ends up badly injured which sends Bucky into a feral rage.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday is here again and so is another chapter update :D
> 
> The intensity of the last few updates is a little friendlier in the last few updates. I hope that you enjoyed my attempts at writing fighty scenes, let me tell you, they were fun to write but I struggled with those! 
> 
> Anyway, feel free to stop by on Tumblr and say hi. I'm there as [alwaysabrighterdarkness](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/alwaysabrighterdarkness). 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Steve woke up distinctly disoriented, squinting at the brightness and his body automatically tensing to rejoin the fight, pain radiating through him drawing a hissed gasp. It was several until he recognized that he was in his own bed in his room. The memories of the fight and of Bucky leaning over him, hand pressed to the wound on his shoulder, came back to him and he slowly allowed himself to relax back against the mattress. 

Before he could consider it further the warm, content scent of blossoming honeysuckle and a firm weight against his right side drew his attention and calmed him further. Steve looked down and smiled warmly at the man sleeping pressed against his side, legs carefully kicked out as not to even accidentally touch Steve’s injured leg. Steve could feel the soft huffs of sleepy exhales against his ribs and couldn’t help the small smile that crept across his lips. He tilted to the side, wincing when the tender wound at his shoulder pulled uncomfortably, to press a light kiss to his hair. Gods, his face still hurt. Fucking Rumlow.

A low sound from his left drew his attention away from Bucky’s sleeping figure. Natasha was sitting stiffly in one of the kitchen chairs that had been dragged up to the bedroom at some point. Her posture was tense and her expression stonily controlled. Her expression was tight enough that he couldn’t get a clear read on what her thought process might be but he took a brief moment to look her over before sighing in relief when she appeared to be at least physically unharmed. “Tash,” he greeted with a soft smile.

“Don’t ‘Tash’ me, Rogers,” she scowled coldly. Steve frowned slightly, tilting his head in confusion and wincing when the change in expression caused his face to ache annoyingly. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Tash--”

“No!” She said, launching herself from the chair and pacing the short distance from the head of the bed to the foot and back again, easily as unraveled as he could remember seeing her in some time. Natasha paused and turned abruptly to face him again, green eyes bright and livid. “You goddamned  _ idiot Alphas _ . You just can’t help getting yourself into things too big for you to handle on your own, can you?!”

“Natasha,” Steve tried to no avail. 

“Do you not have even the  _ tiniest _ bone of self-preservation in your entire stupidly massive body?” she demanded rhetorically.

“ _ They _ came  _ here _ , Tash, I didn’t go searching them out,” Steve protested in defense.

“I don’t care!” She hissed dangerously. “Shot! You were shot, Steve.  _ Twice! _ We didn’t even know if you were going to be alive long enough to continue being a massive pain in my ass! You were  _ dying,  _ you idiot. You were dying, Barnes was trying to  _ fight us, _ half of the property is burnt and the house is full of bullet holes!”

And then suddenly, Steve understood. Natasha didn’t  _ lose control _ like this. Even the worst of his well-deserved reamings were nothing like this. This wasn’t Natasha being  _ angry.  _ This was Natasha being  _ terrified. _ And if there was one thing the woman truly hated, it was being afraid. He sighed softly and reached out for her, forcibly ignoring the pain in his shoulder, catching her small hand in his. “Tash,” he said softly. “I’m okay.”

“But you  _ weren’t _ ,” she argued, the anger in her voice twisting painfully.

Steve smiled sadly and tugged her forward until she settled onto the bed beside him and then let go of her hand to pull her into a warm hug. “I’m okay, Tash,” he repeated gently. “I’m okay, I’m here, and they’re not. We’re safe.”

She swallowed angrily before allowing herself to sink into the hug, careful not to put pressure on the multitude of wrappings on his chest. After a long moment, she spoke, voice soft and shaken, “Gods I was so scared, Steve. When we finally got to you...it was bad. If Sam hadn’t had the forethought to grab Doctor Banner before we left town, we would have been too late.”

He tightened his hold as much as he could, pain didn’t matter right now. It was secondary to everything but reassuring Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly against her familiar red curls.

“I know,” she muttered. “Do it again and I’ll kill you myself.”

Steve huffed a slight laugh and settled back against his pillow, Natasha curling tightly against his left side and Bucky still sleeping peacefully on his right. “Clint and Sam?” he asked worriedly, fighting off the urge to fall back to sleep. 

“Downstairs trying to see what they can do about the damage to the house,” Natasha answered quietly. “I think they were getting antsy waiting for you to decide to rejoin us. It’s...it’s been a long three days.”

He quirked a small smile in response to the jab but then frowned slightly in concern, unsure how three days measured up in his mind, “They’re...okay though?”

“A little bruised but nothing dangerous,” Natasha answered, a hint of guilt in her voice that Steve wasn’t sure most people would catch. 

“What happened?” He prompted.

“Rollins recognized me,” she admitted and then shuddered, Steve made to wrap his arm around her comfortingly again but froze when she shot him a dark glare. “Steve Rogers, if you don’t stop trying to further damage that shoulder I will convince Bruce to sedate you until it’s  _ completely _ healed,” she threatened. “And don’t think Sam and Clint won’t back me up.”

Steve could feel himself flush deeply and ducked his head guiltily, “Sorry.”

She glared at him a moment longer before settling back down against him and continuing to speak. “Rollins recognized me,” she repeated. “Told us that they set us all up, got us to split up to be able to take down easier. And then used a Command to,” her voice tightened in a combination of anger and grief, “to make me try to kill them. Thank gods Clint was there and able to neutralize the Command.”

“Tash,” he breathed sympathetically. 

“We got to the house to find the destruction and you unresponsive with Bucky in hysterics hovering over you doing everything he could think of to slow the bleeding,” she sighed shakily. “Kept repeating that you insisted that Sam would know what to do and then tried to fight Clint when he tried to pull him away from you so Bruce could get a look at you.”

“He--uh--” Steve glanced down to where Bucky was still and quiet beside him, gently stroking through his hair affectionately. “He kinda went Feral there for a bit when I went down.”

Natasha’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed consideringly as she studied the man on Steve’s opposite side. “That would explain it, then,” she said curiously. With a slight wince she looked back to him and hesitated. “Steve--”

“I know,” he responded automatically. Steve knew that the timing was awful, knew that the fight that he had just barely made it through was only the beginning of the uphill battle they faced going forward. Knew that Bucky still had a long road of healing ahead of him. And so did Steve, if he was actually honest about it. But he had meant what he said to Bucky. He wanted this, it felt  _ right. _ Bucky felt right to every ounce of everything that made Steve. Maybe it was selfish to want the man right now, when everything was so questionably up in the air, but for once Steve couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about potentially being selfish. “I know, maybe--maybe my timing could use work, a lot of work probably but... _ Tash _ .”

She studied him intently and then nodded, smiling softly. “Okay, Steve. Just...be careful.”

“Is he done being yelled at already?” Bucky’s muffled voice asked from where his face was pressed against Steve’s side. 

“Not a chance,” Natasha answered immediately. “He’ll be hearing about this one for a very long time.”

“Good,” Bucky muttered, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s skin before rolling his head back to catch her eye across Steve’s torso. “That’ll teach him to scare the shit out of us like that.”

“Hey,” Steve protested weakly. “Rumlow’s the one that decided to ambush us.”

Bucky caught Natasha’s eye again and studied her for a moment before speaking, “He’s dead by the way.”

“Rumlow?” Natasha questioned, green eyes glinting curiously and then narrowing. “You remember me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t,” Bucky shrugged as best he could without having to move from Steve’s side. “I heard Rumlow taunting Steve. Mentioned ‘Little Natalia’.  _ Natalia _ I remembered. Not much, granted, but I remembered your name.” His tone was questioning. 

Natasha glanced back up to Steve and he gave a half-hearted shrug. Carefully shifting around between the two and pulling himself up into a sitting position, cringing and biting back a low whimper at his shoulder’s protests. Natasha and Bucky, realizing what he was attempting, quickly adjusted the pillows behind him and helped him settle back in a way that would support his shoulder. “Go get Clint and Sam,” he instructed her gently. “Think we should recap a bit while I’m awake and able.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a tense sigh, shifting to eye the door to the bedroom with trepidation. 

“It’ll be fine, Tash, promise,” Steve said with an encouraging smile. Natasha returned a weak one of her own and kissed his cheek before climbing off the bed and slipping quietly out of the room. 

Steve turned and let his gaze scan over Bucky for injuries, his uninjured arm rising to tip his chip upwards until their eyes met, “You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said roughly, clearing his throat and nodding slightly. “Yeah, they didn’t--I didn’t get hit, not really. Not like you did, anyway. Couple bruised ribs and some stitches. And tired. Doc says the exhaustion is normal for someone who’s gone into most Feral states.”

”Stitches?” Steve asked. 

”Got grazed by a lucky shot, ” Bucky shrugged dismissively. ”Just my side and probably won't even scar too badly.”

Steve nodded in understanding and sighing in relief at the confirmation. “Good. I-I’m glad,” he said with a soft smile. 

“Told you I could handle myself,” Bucky snarked.

“You sure did,” Steve admitted with a grin, recalling the distracting thoughts that had been bouncing around his head before Rumlow had come at him. “I’ll be honest, watching you fight was something else.”

“You shouldn’t’ve been watchin’ me,” Bucky said with a slightly annoyed scowl. “You and I know damn well what distraction can do in a fight. You’re living it. Right now.”

“I know,” Steve agreed softly. “I know, I shouldn’t have let myself get distracted. It put both of us at risk and I’m sorry for that, Buck.” Bucky nodded solemnly and Steve chose to press his luck a little further, “But, since I  _ was _ watching and I  _ did _ see you fight, I really gotta ask.”

“Ask what?” Bucky narrowed his eyes wearily.

“Is there anything about you that  _ isn’t _ gorgeous? Wish you could see yourself, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and a soft flush rose quickly over his face. “I-I…” He ducked his gaze, zeroing in on some random point along the far wall. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Steve frowned guiltily. 

“I-No, that’s...that’s not it,” Bucky said, frowning slightly but still avoiding Steve’s gaze. 

Steve was prevented from asking further by heavy footsteps trailing up the stairs and towards the room. Instead, he gently laced his fingers through Bucky’s, closing his eyes in relieved comfort when he felt the firm squeeze.

“I swear to god, Rogers, the next time I ride up and find your ass sprawled out on the ground with bullet holes, I’m gonna dig out a basement and keep you locked up there permanently,” Sam swore as he entered the room, making a beeline to Steve’s bedside. 

Steve grinned happily and started to reach out to pull the man into a hug until he saw the dark warning glare Natasha was shooting pointedly at his shoulder. He winced and settled for leaning into the affectionate squeeze to his opposite side and a repeated gesture from Clint. It took some maneuvering, considering Steve’s lopsided injuries and Rumlow turning his face and torso into a massive bruise, but they ended up piled onto the bed together, the kitchen chair shoved off to the side and promptly forgotten.

“What happened after we left?” Steve asked. “Tash told me some of it.”

“Rollins is dead,” Clint said, meeting Steve’s curious gaze evenly. 

“Rumlow, too,” Steve said quietly, taking a moment to consider the two dead men. On one hand he felt relief. The two men primarily responsible for terrorizing Bucky and Natasha were gone. No longer capable of causing further harm. On the other hand, though, these were men that Steve had, at one point, trusted to have his back in hostile situations and had trusted him to have theirs. Men he’d fought with, bled with, went through success and failure with. They weren’t  _ friends _ by any definition of the word. But they had been a part of his team. He glanced up at Sam and watched the same conflict play across the man’s expression as he stared down at his bandage wrapped hands. 

Steve cleared his throat and shifted slightly against his pillows, “They caught us unawares. The explosion at the front of the house was their first strike. A dozen or so, maybe? Only one I was able to identify was Rumlow.”

“I counted fifteen,” Clint spoke up awkwardly. “During...clean up.”

“I recognized a couple of them,” Bucky said and shrugged. “None that I could name but I had seen them before. Been assigned missions with them before.”

“How’s the property looking?” Steve asked, switching away from the heavy topic.

“Salvageable,” Clint shrugged. “The house took a lot of damage. We can fix it but it’s gonna take a while to get it back to whole. The barn though.”

“The barn’s a loss, Steve,” Sam picked up the end. “Luckily the explosion managed to hit an area that none of the animals occupied and you generally put them out to the fields at night when it’s warm enough. Couple of them are hurt but nothing crippling or fatal.”

“That's...That’s good,” Steve nodded in consideration. “Is anything inside the barn salvageable?”

“We could probably reuse some of the wood,” Sam shrugged. “I don’t think the tack room took much more than smoke damage but we’ll have to take a closer look.”

“Let me know what we need as far as supplies and replacements,” Steve said.

“We’ll handle it, Steve,” Natasha interrupted. Steve frowned slightly and tilted his head in question. “You don’t understand how close we were to losing you. Just...let us do this, please. Let  _ us _ handle rebuilding our home and you focus on getting better and getting back to us.”

Steve hesitated but nodded in reluctant agreement. “What  _ can _ I do then?”

“Listen to Doctor Banner and do as you’re told,” Natasha said with a smirk. “I’m sure we can come up with something to keep you occupied when you’re not sleeping but don’t push yourself.”

“Have Bucky help with fixing fire damage,” Steve suggested, sending a teasing sideways glance at the man in question who flushed guiltily. “He made the mess to begin with.”

“Not all of it,” Bucky protested half-heartedly. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Are you going to be helping?” Natasha asked Bucky, her expression neutral with just a hint of curiosity. It was a loaded question, Steve knew. A significant one at that. The Pack had built this house and the other various buildings on the property. More importantly, they had built a  _ home.  _ One that now needed to be fixed and rebuilt, made safe again. Natasha was not-so-subtly asking Bucky if he was staying. If he was going to be a part of making their home, their den, safe again.

Bucky’s gaze seemed to flicker over Clint and Sam and then meeting Steve’s hesitantly before looking back to Natasha again. “Is that an offer?” he asked after a moment.

“Do you want it to be?” Sam asked, his stare intense but far from the sharpness it originally held. 

Bucky looked to Steve again, expression questioning and hopeful. Steve just offered him a soft smile and squeezing their linked hands gently. “You already know what I think, Buck. It’s entirely your call.” Steve nearly couldn’t breath under the building anticipation of his answer.

He leaned a little heavier into Steve’s side and gave a slow nod, “I think I’d like that. To be able to help.”

Steve felt a painful grin working its way across his face and knew he looked every inch the besotted idiot Alpha that Natasha would undoubtedly accuse him of being. At that moment though, his was Pack safe and within reach and Bucky agreeing to stay with them, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. 

He settled himself back more comfortably into the pillows and let the discussions about what needed to be done with the house, what could be fixed and what ought to just be replaced and so on, wash over him. 

He awoke foggily, presumably several hours later considering the noticeable absence of daylight shining through the windows. Steve wasn’t sure what woke him at first. Bucky was curled back into his right side, head pillowed on Steve’s stomach and an arm slung lazily across his hips. Sam was snoring softly on Bucky’s opposite side, one hand extended just enough that his loosely curled fingers brushed Steve’s bicep over Bucky’s slumped form. Natasha was stretched out on her side against his left with Clint sprawled inelegantly behind her, his hand resting on her hip and one foot stretched to press against the top of Steve’s. Steve had to smile sleepily at the unconscious contact they all kept. 

Steve blinked the haze from his vision and stiffened slightly when he realized there was someone else in the room with them. He relaxed after a moment realizing that Doctor Banner must have taken to using one of the other bedrooms while he stayed to tend to Steve’s injuries. It had been a couple of weeks since he had last visited with the man, he realized belatedly, not since he had found Bucky in his barn. 

Doctor Banner approached the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping Pack and smiled softly. “Any pain?” he asked quietly.

Steve mentally catalogued his body and shrugged just slightly as not to dislodge any of the contact with his family. “Nothing I can’t deal with,” he whispered in return. “Think I’m good for the night.”

“Alright,” the doctor nodded in understanding. “I’ll check in with you again in the morning before I head back into town. Good night, Steve.”

“Thank you,” Steve smiled gratefully. “Good night.”

When he relaxed into his pillow once again, he glanced to his left, feeling eyes on him. Natasha tilted her head questioningly. “You okay?” she asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

Steve tilted his head forward, nuzzling affectionately into her hair, “Yeah. You?”

She sighed heavily, pressing into the affection, “I want to tell them.”

“Everything?” he questioned quietly.

“Everything,” she confirmed. “Tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Steve said with a soft smile, shifting to press a kiss into her hair.

“You’ll...help?” Natasha asked hesitantly.

“Tash,” he breathed fondly. “Anything you need, you know that.”

“What if--”

“Don’t do that,” Steve cut her off gently. “They love you almost as much as I do. It’ll be okay.”

“Love you, too,” she murmured softly, her form going lax with sleepiness once again.

“Go back to sleep, Tash. Everything else can wait.”

Steve found himself following his own advice, drifting off shortly after Natasha settled back into sleep. When he woke again, sometime around mid-morning by his estimate, his bed was considerably more empty considering he was the only one left in it. He decided then and there that he didn’t particularly like the concept of waking up alone anymore. But it did give him the chance to test the state of his body and healing without receiving glares or lectures for his trouble. 

Slowly, he tensed and flexed and stretched his legs, pointing his toes down towards the end of the bed and grimacing when his right thigh pulled uncomfortably. He couldn’t say that it didn’t hurt but not nearly as much as he had been bracing himself for. His shoulder was a different matter altogether though. Using slow rolls forward and then back to test the muscles and the joint had him clenching his jaw against the painful sensation--he quickly learned  _ that _ was a bad idea also when his face throbbed painfully in response. Hazarding a guess, he thought it might be because the bullet hadn’t been able to go straight through, he imagined that Doctor Banner likely had to retrieve it. He could be wrong though. He probably was. His medical training had been limited to field triage.

Steve absently shrugged off the unhelpful train of thought and pulled himself to sit upright. A cautious eye to the bedroom door, he inched towards the edge of the bed and carefully scooted his legs over the side. He sighed in determination when his feet hit the cool wood floor. Another glance at the door and a pause to listen for footsteps, Steve braced his good hand against the side table and pulled himself to stand. His thigh protested the movement but the complaint was mild so Steve shoved it aside and promptly ignored it. 

“What are you doing?” a voice said from the door. 

Steve startled and wobbled slightly, catching his balance against the side table again. He glanced up at the door to find Bucky glaring at him accusingly, arms crossed in front of him and leaning against the doorframe. “I-uh...Standing?” he said guiltily.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Bucky scowled. “Get your ass back in that bed before you do yourself more damage.”

“I’m not doing any more damage,” Steve protested, raising his hand off of the table and holding it outwards indicatively, pointedly ignoring the throb of pain originating from his thigh. “See, perfectly stable.”

Bucky didn’t look impressed, instead his scowl deepened and he took a few quick strides until he was even with Steve, crowding in until Steve was forced to sit on the bed once again. “Goddamned, stubborn, pig-headed Alphas,” he growled irritably. “Get back in bed, Steve. Now.”

Steve sighed but scooted himself back against the pillows that he haphazardly stacked against the headboard, mindful of putting weight on his right arm. He refused the blankets though. Bucky’s posture untensed as soon as Steve was settled once again. He leaned over the edge of the bed to rest against Steve’s good shoulder and sighed heavily. Steve cupped the back of his neck affectionately and leaned his cheek against the side of Bucky’s head. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

Bucky shifted and lowered himself onto the bed, keeping his extended legs as far away from Steve’s injured one as he could manage. He shrugged slightly, “Alright, I think? I don’t think my mind really understands that it’s over. That I’m actually safe now.”

Steve nodded in understanding and slipped his arm around Bucky’s shoulder, tugging him in closer. After a moment of silence, he pressed a kiss to Bucky’s hair and then one to his forehead, cheek, and then a slow, lingering one to his lips. He would have been more than happy to let the soft affection continue but Bucky withdrew before it could stretch further than was probably wise. Steve quirked a small smile and sighed happily. “You’re really staying?”  _ With me? _ He didn’t add.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am,” Bucky said thoughtfully, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter: Steve wakes up after the fight and the Pack regroups
> 
> Next Chapter: Steve is a really terrible patient


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! Chapter 14 is here! That means there's just one chapter left after this one and that will go up, as scheduled, this coming Wednesday. It's been a great ride for me this far and I hope it's been the same for you. 
> 
> Anyway, enough distracting chitchat. Enjoy chapter 14!

Steve Rogers was a terrible patient. 

Perhaps it shouldn’t have been all that surprising. Bucky could recall that most Alphas that he’d come across over the years were somewhat difficult patients but Steve might have been the most frustrating. It wasn’t that he got snappish or belligerent like others Bucky had known and he didn’t milk it needily for attention. Instead, he seemed to want to pretend that he was never injured and everything was just completely normal. Like if he just pretended his injuries didn’t exist then they would just disappear.

In the days following Steve’s wake up after the attack, every single one of the Pack--and Doctor Banner--had the unpleasant experience of having to herd the big Alpha back into bed or otherwise intervening to keep him from further damaging his healing injuries. Natasha had been the one to catch him trying to get down the stairs on his own. Bucky couldn’t help but wish he could pull off her terrifying tone and matching glare that had forced Steve to duck his head guiltily and let himself be herded back to his room with his tail between his legs like a scolded puppy. 

And now, Bucky had come up the stairs to find Steve stumbling out of the bathroom, skin flushed and hair dripping. It had taken Bucky a moment too long to draw his straying attention back to why the sight, gorgeous as it was,  _ wasn’t _ actually a good thing.

“What are you doing?” He asked finally with a resigned sigh.

“It’s been over a  _ week _ , Buck,” Steve said, voice very near a whine. “It was getting...itchy.”

“You could have at least called for help getting there,” Bucky pointed out, not allowing himself to think about  _ helping _ . The handful of times over the past week or so that he had helped with a basin of water and a bit of cloth had been plenty bad enough. Thankfully then he had been so distracted by relief of  _ Steve was okay,  _ and guilt that he was at least partially responsible for the Alpha’s current state, to have let his thoughts wander too far. That wasn’t to say they hadn’t drifted off to the memory later on, however. Steve was undeniably gorgeous and Bucky was not only  _ not  _ blind but undeniably smitten with the big Alpha.

Steve’s shower pinkened skin flushed slightly deeper and he shrugged with his good shoulder--Bucky noticed that, while his injured thigh didn’t seem to bother him, Steve still seemed to favor his left shoulder. “I managed alright,” he said evasively. 

Bucky sighed and moved forward to tuck himself under Steve’s right arm, nudging the arm across his shoulder in a hug that doubled as a way for Steve to take some of the weight off of his leg without being obvious about it. “Steve,” he sighed. “Why don’t you want us helping you?”

“It’s not that,” Steve frowned but allowed Bucky to lead him back to the bedroom. “I just don’t do idle well. I don’t do well with not being able to do things for myself. I was sick a lot as a kid. It was a near miss on surviving it nearly every other year. I guess I kinda got to the point of disliking being incapable of doing...well,  _ anything _ .”

“Well, if it helps, we like being able to help. To take care of you like you do us,” Bucky said with a small smile. “That’s what we do, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with an unconvincing sigh. 

Bucky urged him back onto the bed and settled in next to him, draping his legs across Steve’s lap--firm, constant pressure seemed to help with the lingering ache that Steve tried to pretend didn’t exist, though none of the Pack believed him--and leaning against his chest. “So,” he dragged out the word thoughtfully a few minutes later. “You sweet talked Natasha out of a long term deep cover operation.”

“I didn’t know it at the time,” Steve defended weakly, his arms automatically looping around Bucky’s waist to hold him just slightly closer. “Just wanted her to be safe and happy. She never seemed or scented like either until we finally settled in here.” Steve shifted slightly, “How’s that going, by the way? I haven’t seen the three of them together up here since we talked.”

“Alright, I think,” Bucky answered. “She’s still on edge but tries not to let it show. Clint seems to be hovering a lot. Caught them cuddled on the couch last night, so it can’t be all bad.”

“And Sam?”

“Keeps teasing her about having a superspy as a pesky little sister,” Bucky answered immediately with a small laugh that Steve echoed. “Then she dumped a handful of salt into his coffee when he wasn’t looking. I mean, she’s got pretty small hands but that’s still a lot of salt. It’s been a while since I’ve heard a grown man make that kind of noise.”

Steve’s full-bodied laugh brought a grin to Bucky’s face. He couldn’t help but turn his head to press a kiss to the heaving chest under him. “Oh gods,” Steve finally managed when his laughter started to slow. “That’s just like them. They’ve been like that pretty much from the day they met.”

“It’s nice to see,” Bucky admitted. “How you all interact when things are...less tense.”

“It’s yours too, now,” Steve reminded gently. Bucky smiled, feeling the rush of surprised pleasure wash over him each time he was reminded that he could actually have this,  _ did _ have this. They settled comfortably into silence for several long moments, just appreciating the company and the contact. 

Something prodded at his memory, though, distracting him from the pleasant calm and he frowned slightly. “When Natasha was talking about everything that happened, and meeting you...the-uh-the bar that you met her in?” Bucky hedged.

“What about it?” Steve asked in confusion.

“I can’t say for certain, it’s been a couple of years, but I’m pretty sure I was the bartender working that night.” Bucky admitted. “From what I gathered from Natasha’s story, they seemed to frequent it. It--It sounded familiar.”

“What?” Steve said, body tensing and shifting until he could look down to try and meet Bucky’s eyes. 

“I remember the night she talked about,” Bucky winced. “The night that she met you? I’m pretty sure that was the same night they--uh--that they picked me up.”

“We were…” Steve’s voice was quiet and horrified. “We were  _ right there. _ ”

“I’m glad you got her out,” Bucky said, shifting the topic slightly. 

“Yeah, me too,” Steve said, though Bucky could tell that his thoughts were still lingering on the admission by the tone of his voice and the way his arm tightened around him.

They fell into another comfortable stretch of silence. Steve’s hand stroking up and down Bucky’s side and his cheek resting against the top of his head. “How did you manage to find this property, anyway?” Bucky asked curiously.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked in confusion.

“It’s just really lucky,” Bucky shrugged lazily. “You managed to find a property to build on and it smells just like your Pack. Not just the house...the whole property.”

Steve was silent for a beat and then nodded curiously against Bucky’s head, tilting to press a soft kiss to his hair, “It does, doesn’t it?” Then Bucky could feel his lips stretch into a small smile. “Did you notice the wild honeysuckle that grows around the sides of the house and barn?”

“Honeysuckle?” Bucky repeated in surprise.

“Mmhm,” Steve hummed in confirmation, ducking his head until he could nose into the side of Bucky’s neck, and draw in a slow, deep breath. Bucky shivered at the blatant scenting, tilting his head to allow better access to the sensitive skin, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of Steve’s shirt. Steve suckled teasingly at the skin before speaking against it softly. “Guess that means it's always smelled like you too.”

Bucky snorted lightly at the cheesy statement but snuggled in closer anyway. It might have been cheesy but it was also incredibly sweet. When he tipped his head back with a smile, Steve met him part way, pressing their lips together in a kiss as sweet as the comment had been. It had only been a week since their first kisses on the floor of the barn and, later, in the kitchen but Bucky found that he had missed the affection and sank into it almost greedily. He parted his lips and followed the urge to deepen it, stretch it out and let it linger as long as they could. Steve groaned quietly, his opposite arm--the injured one, Bucky noted with absent disapproval--rose and cupped his cheek, thumb under his jaw to tip his head into just the right position. 

“I don’t think that’s what Doc Banner meant when he said you needed to be resting,” Sam’s voice interrupted suddenly. 

Despite the interruption, Steve didn’t jerk back bashfully like Bucky had expected, instead he withdrew slowly, lingering to press a couple ghosting kisses over Bucky’s lips before he lifted his head to acknowledge Sam. “I’m resting,” Steve argued without heat. “Tucked away in bed and everything.”

Sam smirked slightly, clearly disbelieving but moved across the room to sit on the bed at Steve’s opposite side. “Doc said he’d be back again sometime tomorrow,” he informed. “If you’ve been giving yourself  _ time to recover _ , he said you might even be cleared to be up and around a bit more.”

“Oh thank gods,” Steve groaned, his head falling back into the pillows almost dramatically. Bucky rolled his eyes and met Sam’s eyes with shared fond amusement. Steve narrowed his eyes at them playfully and looked pointedly at Bucky, “Like you weren’t itching to get up and about after  _ your _ first week here.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “But  _ I  _ hadn’t been  _ shot. _ Twice.”

“No, you just got blown up,” Steve retorted dryly. 

“I was far enough from the blast that I just got hit with the debris,” Bucky countered. “I didn’t actually get blown up.”

“Close enough to catch a shit ton of woodshards the size of my hand,” Steve snarked. “You were damned lucky they didn’t pierce anything vital.”

“An explosion that size probably didn’t leave anything the size of  _ your _ hands,” Bucky quipped automatically, catching one of Steve’s large hands in both of his and lifting it to face level to study pointedly. Steve just closed his hand around Bucky’s fingers and brought it to his lips to press an affectionate kiss. 

“On that note,” Sam said, blinking in something like surprise but clearly forcing down a smirk of amusement. “I actually came up to see if you’d be up to help with lunch for everyone?”

“Me?” Bucky asked in mild surprise.

“Well I damned sure ain’t asking Steve to come downstairs and help,” Sam snorted. “I am good with staying clear of Natasha’s glare.”

“Not lookin’ forward to drinking another mouthful of salted coffee?” Bucky smirked. Sam glared ineffectually considering that his lips were wobbling in an attempt to suppress his own amusement. Bucky glanced back at Steve only to have to take a double take. The Alpha was leaning back into the pillows, glancing between Bucky and Sam with a pleased, all too fond smile on his face. He realized, then, that this had likely been the most pleasant and  _ comfortable _ exchange he had shared with Sam in front of the man while he was awake and aware. No wonder Steve’s scent had warmed with all the unmistakable marks of contentment. He caught Sam’s eye again and they shared a small smile.

They would be okay, Bucky thought. He really could have this. All of it.

“Yeah, I’ll help,” Bucky said, answering the original question. He shifted and pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s lips--undeniably pleased at being allowed the simple, causal affections-- that drew out longer than he intended when Steve’s arms tightened around his waist. When Steve finally released him, Bucky shot him a small, happy grin and climbed off of the bed. Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder--the good one, Steve wasn’t the only one that babied that particular injury considering that it was far too close to the Alpha’s heart for anyone’s comfort--and fell into step behind Bucky with ease.

They ended up side by side in the kitchen again, a near exact repeat of the dinner a few weeks before. Only with considerably less tension and hostility. They worked easily in tandem, reaching over and around one another while somehow managing to avoid getting in each other’s way. But, Bucky realized just then, they had managed that the very first night, too. The night when Sam and Clint had come to the house after first meeting Bucky at the tavern. Sam, Steve, and Bucky had made dinner, working together almost seamlessly. And then again on the night that Bucky and Sam had their minor confrontation.

“Thank you,” Sam said quietly, breaking the silence.

“For what?” Bucky frowned, glancing up and then back down to the sharp knife and vegetables under it.

“For not bolting at the first chance?” Sam said and then winced at his own words. He shrugged and his shoulders dropped, his tone going with them. “For having his back when we weren’t there to.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Or if there were even proper words  _ to respond _ to it with. Not the words spoken, he could easily shrug off the thanks as unneeded or accept them with a small smile. But it was the miserable, almost painful tone that the words were spoken in that gave him pause. Bucky hesitated a brief moment, uncertain of the potential for rejection, but then shifted slightly to his left to lean against Sam’s shoulder. 

“They played us, Sam,” Bucky finally said in an equally quiet voice. “That’s what they did. They made their living off of playing people, exploiting people and their weaknesses. Can’t put that on your own shoulders.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “I know that. Doesn’t make it any easier though, not with...everything else the whole thing brought forward.”

“They were really good at what they did and had years to dedicate to perfecting it,” Bucky said thoughtfully after a moment. “I know that neither Steve or Natasha blames you. I don’t either. You’re a good man, Sam, but you’re not all-knowing.”

“Steve and I, we shoulda stayed,” Sam insisted. “We shouldn’t have just bolted when we  _ knew _ they were doing stupid shit.”

Bucky sighed and set his knife down on the counter and wiped his hands on a small towel. Once his hands were mostly clean, he wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist and tugged him closer in a snug side hug, leaning a little heavier when Sam’s arm moved around his shoulders. 

“I know a thing or two about guilt,” Bucky admitted. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing either of us can really do about the bad things that have already happened. Can only go forward.”

“Feel like I should be the one sayin’ that to you, considering,” Sam said with a weak laugh that faltered just as quickly. “We’re gonna do it, you know? We’re going to bring the whole thing down. Soon as Steve’s back on his feet and we can hit it together.”

“I know,” Bucky said with a small smile, letting his head knock against Sam’s shoulder. “I know we will. Lookin’ forward to it.”

Sam tightened the arm around his shoulders and then pulled it back, dragging his hand comfortingly across his back before turning back to the meal they had been preparing. “C’mon we gotta get this done before Steve decides he needs to come help,”

Bucky laughed but nodded in agreement, “Yeah, we’re kinda on a short timeline, aren’t we? That guy has no patience.”

In the end, they managed to get lunch finished before Steve attempted more ill-advised stair climbing. They snagged Clint and Natasha from whatever they had been working on outside and ended up taking their food upstairs to keep Steve company.

“I think a lot of the major work on the house might have to wait until the spring,” Clint said thoughtfully. “We’ve got a few weeks at best before winter sets in. I think it would be better to do patches now to get us through it and then do the full renovation when the snow’s gone. Focus on rebuilding the barn for now before it gets too cold.”

“We’ll need to build them a temporary shelter until we can get the new barn up,” Sam added. He glanced at Bucky consideringly and then shrugged, “Between the three of us, we should be able to get a pretty good start on the barn and then when Steve’s fully recovered he’ll be able to jump in, too.”

“I can do the patchwork on the house,” Natasha said with a shrug. “Shouldn’t be an issue and would let you keep your focus on the barn.”

“We need to keep an eye out in town, too,” Steve pointed out. “Just because we pulled out of this one well enough doesn’t mean that they didn’t have other plants there or in some of the nearby towns. We should stay alert.”

Sam hesitated and glanced around the room, shaking his head and then pinning Steve with an intense stare, “We’re not going back into town right now, Steve. If they’re still around, we’re sure as hell not giving them the opportunity to split us up again.”

“Sam--” Steve started, tone too gentle, placating.

“Not happening, Rogers,” Sam glared. 

“I’m just sayin’--”

“Steve,” Natasha interrupted. “It’s not happening. We’re all here  _ at least _ until you’re back to being able to defend yourself at your normal level.”

“We have a responsibility,” Steve argued firmly.

“And  _ this _ is a priority responsibility,” Bucky countered, leaning into Steve’s side. 

“Right now,” Clint continued from where Bucky’s words left off, his tone firm and authoritative. “Our responsibility is to rebuild our home and to make sure that  _ our Alpha _ gets back on his feet safely.”

“Clint, I’m not--” Steve was frowning, face paling dramatically and eyes wide, his earthy scent twisting in a strange contradictory combination of pained, horrified, and surprised.

Natasha snorted in amusement, “Yes you are. You always have been ours, Steve. How do you not know that by now?”

Steve looked almost pleadingly at Sam for some sort of help or clarification but Sam just gave a small shrug. “Always have been, man. Don’t go through hell and then up and move across the country for just anyone, you know.”

“It-It’s not like that though,” Steve argued almost desperately, tone almost pleading. “We’re  _ family _ . It’s not--It’s not like that.”

“Yeah, well that just means you're the head of this family then,” Clint shrugged. 

“It’s not a bad thing, Steve,” Natasha said softly, tilting her head in concern. “It’s not something you’ve forced on us. It’s not something…” She dropped off and shook her head clearly frustrated with her own struggle with finding the words to explain. “We’re still our own people. Don’t think of it like that, you’re not taking anything from us. We’re not giving anything up. But every one of us, you care and take care of us like no one else has. And more importantly, you  _ respect _ us. And we love you for it. So yes, we’re a family. Yes, you are our Alpha and we almost lost you. So, again, yes,  _ you _ are our priority at the moment. You and this house that  _ we  _ built and  _ you  _ ensured became an actual home.”

Steve fell silent for several long moments. Bucky shifted, tilting his head to see Steve’s face. The Alpha was staring hard down at his hands in his lap, it was only when he swallowed thickly that Bucky noticed the moisture clinging to his eyelashes. Bucky suddenly recalled the previous thoughts and conversations of this man’s soft side and now, he knew, he was seeing it fully exposed. He hesitated, briefly questioning if it was his place to be the one comforting him at that particular moment, before discarding the thought and raising a hand to scratch gently through Steve’s hair. Steve leaned into the touch and sniffed quietly, raising his head to meet everyone’s gaze one at a time. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Sam said gently. “There’s nothing to be said on it. It just is.”

“Our big idiot Alpha,” Natasha teased, leaning forward to press a kiss to Steve’s cheek. That, at least, drew a smile and small, watery laugh from Steve. Bucky couldn’t help but smile as he moved from the bed and began gathering the various dishes that had been brought up with their lunch, stacking them with practiced movements, intent on giving the Pack a few moments on their own. 

Before he could leave the bedroom to take them back down to the kitchen for washing, Clint pulled the stack from his hands. “I got it. You and Sam made lunch, Nat and I’ll clean up,” he said, nudging Bucky back toward Steve. “Keep him from going stir crazy and undoing a week of healing, would you?” When Bucky blinked in confused surprise, Clint just smirked and lowered his voice, speaking quietly. “You’re Pack, too and right now  _ our _ Alpha probably really needs  _ his _ Omega.” 

Bucky felt both his heart and his face warm at the blatantly pointed statement but he gave a slow nod in understanding, wordlessly accepting his role in this Pack’s dynamics. Clint brought a hand up to the side of his face and pulled their foreheads together gently, the same way he had done at the tavern after Rollins had jumped him. Clint released him and winked cheekily before turning to the door. Natasha paused in front of him long enough to press a kiss to his cheek before trailing after Clint, snagging stray cups off of the dresser and side table as she went.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky turned back and climbed back onto the bed, settling into Steve’s side once again. He saw Sam hesitate and eye the door before glancing back at them. When he met Bucky’s eye, Bucky arched a brow in slight challenge and nodded indicatively to Steve’s opposite side. Sam blinked in surprise but then it smoothed quickly into a grateful smile, moving to sit comfortably beside Steve. 

Objectively, Bucky knew that they might have come out on top of this particular fight but there was still a long road ahead of them in the battle against the trafficking ring and all of those who were involved. He didn’t expect it to be quick or easy and acknowledged that it would likely be painful too. There was a part of him that was eager to hit the challenge head on. To dive in as soon as possible to stop anyone else from being forced into the position that he had been, or worse. 

But in that particular point in time, Steve was laughing full-bodied at something Sam had said, his arm around Bucky tightening automatically with the force of it. Steve was tilting his head to the side to press those grinning lips into Bucky’s temple. Right then, the house and the property that Bucky had slowly started being comfortable enough to think of as  _ home  _ was a disaster. But they were together. He had a Pack, a family, something he had given up hope of having five years ago. He had a good, kindhearted Alpha that he was quickly falling head over heels for who clearly loved him too. 

And suddenly he wasn’t in a rush. He wasn’t eager to break the moment with thoughts of the future. Not unless those thoughts contained a bonding mark and a life with Steve and the Pack. For now, he was content. More than content, he realized.

Bucky was actually  _ happy. _


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me for this long and I hope you've enjoyed the ride!
> 
> Feel free to come say hello on Tumblr! I'm on there as [AlwaysABrighterDarkness](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/alwaysabrighterdarkness).
> 
> As I've mentioned in previous chapter notes, I am still playing with the ideas of writting additional scene exerpt type pieces for this fic. I don't have any written out or ready to be posted at the moment, however. But they are in brainstorming stages and I do welcome suggestions and requests <3
> 
> Anyway, here is the final chapter, enjoy!

In the end, it had taken over a year and a half before they were able to completely dismantle the trafficking ring. A lot of time and effort from the Pack combined with reaching out to old contacts and calling in favors from their respective past lives went into it. There were still some of the upper rungs of the network to handle but those would inevitably have to go through proper legal channels. There were, it turned out, several big names with big money backing it. That had been disheartening for them to learn. 

Steve had shut himself in the rebuilt barn for the majority of the day when they had found out that one of their senior officers from he and Sam’s time with the army had, not only known, but backed Rumlow and Rollins in the whole affair. The officer had just happened to be the one that they had turned their resignation into. Unfortunately, the information that they had accumulated didn’t get any better. 

In between gathering information and chasing down leads, though, life went on comparatively normal. Bucky hadn’t known what to expect, having had so little normalcy for so long, but he had adapted to it fairly well. He had helped to rebuild the house. The Pack had spent that winter tossing ideas around as to whether they wanted to keep everything and just do heavy repair or to rebuild. Unsurprisingly, in Bucky’s opinion considering all that had happened and the sentimental value of the house itself, they combined the two options. The main level had been mostly gutted, updated, and expanded to accommodate their additional number--Bucky still struggled somedays to believe that he actually had this. It turned out beautifully, not that it wasn’t before, but Bucky was a bit partial to the version he had been invited to have a hand in building.

Things between he and Steve had been, Bucky felt his ears heat at the thought of his relationship with the big Alpha, they had been really good. They hadn’t bonded. They had come to the agreement fairly early on that they wouldn’t until it was safe. Until they finally managed to bring down the last of the ring. But all things considered, they were well beyond ‘courting’ after a year and a half. They were bonded in every way but the mark itself. Not having it certainly didn’t hurt their relationship any so Bucky found himself content to wait. Forever if he had to.

One evening, they were gathered around the table, dinner was long since over but they hadn’t moved to the living room as of yet. Sam and Clint had taken over clean up and Bucky could hear the telltale sounds from the kitchen and, for the moment, it was enough to know that they were still near. Natasha had warned that she would be missing dinner with the Pack but had some important information to share with them when she got home. They were all a little on edge. ‘Important information’ was welcome for their task but hadn’t given them cause to look forward to it lately. So, they stuck to the table rather than sprawling across the couches and chairs like they normally would. 

The front door closed behind him with a quiet click and Natasha dropped herself gracefully into her usual seat at the table and immediately turned her attention to Steve. “I called in a favor with an old contact,” Natasha said abruptly, expression carefully neutral.

“Okay. Anyone I’d know?” Steve asked curiously as he leaned forward in his chair to give her his full attention.

Natasha grimaced slightly and began speaking in what could only be called a placating tone, “Look, Steve, we need information and he’s  _ good _ at information when he wants to be and I know that you know this. He’s...motivated to help us.”

Steve’s brow crinkled slightly in confusion before comprehension dawned. “Aw,  _ Tash, _ no _ ” _ he said in an almost dramatic whine.

“I know you don’t particularly...get along,” Natasha continued. “But he’s the best and you know it. If we want to take on the upper rungs, we need the best.”

Steve groaned and leaned forward with his elbows on the table, rubbing his hands over his face before letting them drop onto the table top. “Yeah. Yeah, I know,” he reluctantly agreed. “He’s agreed to meet us, then?”

“He’s...here, actually,” Natasha winced, eyeing Steve with hesitant amusement. “I just told him to give us a minute. Seemed to amuse him actually.”

“Of course it did,” Steve said with a sigh, slumping back into his chair. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Bucky watched the interaction curiously, leaning comfortably into his own chair in a somewhat lazy sprawl, his legs stretched under the table to where his feet could rest in Steve’s lap. Despite being with Steve and the Pack for over a year, he hadn’t seen anyone cause this particular reaction from Steve before. He had to admit he was curious. And very amused. Seeing his big, burly Alpha acting like a petulant teenager was probably far more entertaining than it ought to be. He found himself fascinated to meet whoever was able to be the cause.

“Right,” Natasha said, clearly biting back a laugh. “I’ll go get him then.”

When he heard the front door open and close and then the returning footsteps, Bucky glanced over his shoulder to see who the new arrival was and froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

“--nice place, though why you’d want--Holy  _ shit, _ Barnes?” 

Bucky was on his feet and tripping over the chair in his urgency before his name was completely out of the man’s mouth and tugging him into a tight embrace that was immediately returned with matching intensity. “Oh gods, Tony,” Bucky said, voice nearing a sob as he automatically buried his face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, feeling nearly desperate to let the strong rosy scent--that somehow always seemed to be tinged with oil, grease, and who knew what else no matter how often Tony compulsively bathed, though Bucky had always thought Tony found a way to manage it intentionally--confirm what his eyes were seeing. 

“Holy shit,” Tony repeated, his words sounded like they were trembling. “I thought you were  _ dead,  _ you fucking asshole! Where the hell have you been?” Bucky didn’t realize that he was trembling too until he felt Tony carefully stroking his palms up and down his back as Tony clung to the embrace as well. 

Tony pulled back enough from the embrace just enough to take Bucky’s face in hand, his dark eyes scanning over him intently. Bucky shook his head slightly, exhaling shakily, “I’m okay now. I’m okay. Oh gods, Tony, I-I thought--”

“What  _ happened _ to you? Wait... _ no.”  _ Tony Stark wasn’t the best in what he did for no reason. He was a smart man, a genius, and knew how to use the information at his disposal. It wasn’t surprising that he quickly put together that Natasha had contacted him about bringing down the trafficking ring and Bucky just happened to be there. “How long? How long did they have you?”

“Five years,” Bucky answered quietly. “Took me after work one night. Didn’t really have a chance once they started using Commands.”

“Commands? Oh you’ve gotta--Goddamned, knot brained Alphas. How did--?”

Bucky withdrew slightly and looked back over his shoulder at the table where Steve was staring at them with a gobsmacked expression tinged with mild horror and even Natasha looked on in surprise. He huffed a shaky laugh at the sight and then looked back to Tony. “They--uh--they saved me. A bit over a year ago now. It’s a-um-It’s a long story. But we’ve been taking down the lower levels of the Ring for the last year.”

“I’m going to guess that I don’t need to do introductions,” Natasha said interrupting the reunion dryly.

Bucky grinned a bit sheepishly and shrugged, “I’ve known Tony for…” He blinked and frowned slightly then shot a teasing glare at the other Omega who was still clinging as tightly to Bucky as Bucky was to him. “Too goddamn long.”

“Hey watch it, Honeybee,” Tony snarked. “You love me. I know it and you know it.”

“You know each other,” Steve said, expression surprisingly blank but Bucky could hear a faintly horrified note to his tone. Suddenly, Bucky couldn’t hold back his laughter. He nearly doubled over with the force of it, one arm clinging across Tony’s shoulders to keep himself upright.

“Oh my god, Tony, what did you  _ do?”  _ He managed between gauffs. “I should’ve known it was you. No one else is capable of bringing out  _ that _ reaction in people.”

“It’s a natural talent,” Tony shrugged, though he seemed to be laughing too. Though it was probably at Bucky’s expense. It usually was. But that was very okay because he was  _ here _ . “It’s not my fault Captain Tight Ass doesn’t get my humor.”

Somehow, that set Bucky off again. Tony huffed in amusement but used the arm around Bucky’s waist to guide his shaking body back to the table and then shoved him back into his chair. Tony snatched the empty one to Bucky’s left and dragged it closer, dropping into it and swinging around until his knees were draped over Bucky’s lap, crossed neatly at his ankles and bouncing slightly with the usual untameable energy that Tony had always had.. 

“Okay, who’s slipping Bucky the good stuff and why are they not sharing?” Clint quipped as he dropped into the chair beside Steve, leaning sideways into the other Alpha’s shoulder. “Who’s the new guy?”

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Bucky gasped, doing his best to pull himself back together. He took a deep breath and exhaled shakily, swiping his hands over his face in an attempt to dry his eyes of the tears the force of his laughter had caused. His sides and stomach ached from the force of his laughter and his cheeks hurt. Bucky wasn’t sure the last time that he had laughed like that. He glanced across the table to meet Steve’s gaze. Steve still looked vaguely horrified but there was the soft fondness that Bucky had grown accustomed to seeing there too. 

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly as Natasha settled on Clint’s opposite side. “Stark, Tash said you had some insight on the upper rings of the network.”

“Yep,” Tony said, his tone in the single word bordering on smug. Bucky nudged him with his elbow and Tony scowled at him automatically, only for the expression to drop into a relieved smile. “Yeah, quite a bit actually and little of it good.”

“We’ve not found much  _ good _ since we started digging,” Natasha commented. Her eyes moved over Bucky’s shoulder and tracked unseen movement behind him. Bucky didn’t bother to look, a warm hand on his back and a warm leathery scent told him all he needed to know. Sam dropped inelegantly in the chair to Bucky’s right, eyeing the way Tony was draped over Bucky curiously, brows arched high in confusion. Sam glanced up to study Bucky’s face, lingering on what Bucky would assume was a very bright grin, and he relaxed into his chair, his arm draping across the back of Bucky’s chair affectionately.

“Steve, man, are you picking up strays without telling us again?” Sam asked with an amused smirk in the Alpha’s direction.

“Definitely not me this time,” Steve grumbled, clearly trying to smother his grimace. 

“Okay, no, hold on,” Bucky said, unable to quell his own curiosity any longer. Sure bringing down the ring was important but  _ this _ he had to know. He turned his attention back to Tony. “I gotta know. What did you  _ do? _ ”

“I’ve done lots of things, Sunshine,” Tony blinked innocently. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

“Tony seems to have a thing with making Steve uncomfortable,” Natasha said with a smirk. 

“I do not have a  _ thing,  _ Romanoff, stop telling filthy lies,” Tony quipped with a mock glare. 

“What would you call it then?” She inquired, brow arched pointedly.

“It’s not a  _ thing!  _ Have you  _ seen _ the way he blushes?” Tony asked defensively, eyes wide and hands wildly waving indicatively in Steve’s direction. “How do you even manage to live with him and  _ not _ try to bring it out as much as possible?”

“Stark,” Steve sighed in frustration, the aforementioned blush working its way over his face. “Bucky, do we really have to talk about this now?”

“Absolutely,” Bucky grinned. “I’ve never seen you so unsettled by someone.” He studied his Alpha for a moment, grin widening when the blush deepened. “And he  _ does _ have a point. You do blush real pretty, sweetheart,” he drawled teasingly.

“ _ Buck, _ ” Steve groaned, dropping his head into his arms crossed over the table top.

“Don’t be like that, Alpha,” Bucky soothed teasingly. Steve peeked over his arms and shot him a look that seemed to be equal parts heat and exasperation. Bucky knew that Steve still had a love-hate relationship with being referred to as ‘Alpha’ but also knew that he would hear more about it later. If he was lucky. 

Tony snorted in amusement, his fingertips tracing over Bucky’s cheekbone. “It’s not like  _ you _ have a whole lot of room to talk when it comes to pretty blushes, James Barnes.” 

Bucky narrowed his eyes and stared for a long moment until Tony started to squirm in his seat just slightly. Without breaking the stare, Bucky shifted his hand quickly and dug his fingertips into either side of Tony’s knee, causing the man to squawk and emit a loud giggle. Tony shoved at his hand until he stopped and slumped forward in his chair to lean his head against Bucky’s shoulder as he caught his breath. “Dear gods, why did I miss you?”

“‘Cause you love me,” Bucky said with a nonchalant shrug, automatically turning his head to nuzzle affectionately into Tony’s hair. 

“Can we get back onto topic, please?” Steve all but begged.

“Sure thing, Cupcake,” Tony grinned without moving off of Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at Steve’s sigh of frustration. Yeah, Tony had that effect on people. “I’ve been keeping my eye out for information ever since Little Red contacted me months ago. Turns out there’s a lot of hands in this particular pie.” Tony paused and glanced to Bucky, “Did you know that I was meant to be one of their marks?”

“What?” Bucky breathed, eyes wide. That would have--. “Tony…”

“Yeah, found all sorts of nice little money trails when I started digging,” Tony said, shrugging it off almost dismissively. It was only knowing the man as long as he had that let Bucky hear the tightness in the words.

“Tell us?” He asked. Tony’s eyes strayed around the table and he shifted uncomfortably. Bucky squeezed the knee under his hand gently. “Hey, it’s safe here.”

“Obviously,” Tony scoffed. “I think I counted an easy dozen weapons just walking through.”

Bucky caught Steve and Clint’s wide-eyed startled exchange from the corner of his eye and couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, but you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, well, you reek of all of them and it’s kinda like one of those impossible things for me to not trust you so. Yeah. Figured it was safe enough.” Tony huffed and slumped back into his chair. “What do you want me to say? Once my parents died there was one more Stark to get out of the picture. Money exchanged hands in order to have me taken and sold off to the highest bidder. The highest bidder was supposed to essentially be my assassin as well.”

“Stane,” Bucky scowled. 

“Yeah,” Tony confirmed with that same dismissive shrug. “Anyway, that’s not the point of this. The point is that this is bigger than you were thinking. It’s not just ‘oh, that Omega looks nice, let’s grab ‘em’. There’s a lot of financial backing to get problem Omega’s out of the way too. Especially once you get higher up where money is less of an issue.”

“So wait,” Sam interrupted. “You’re telling me that this Stane guy was tryin’ to use your own money to pay these assholes to get you out of the way of your own company?”

“That about sums it up, yeah,” Tony answered with a cynical smirk. “Suffice to say I’ve got proper motivation to help put this thing to an end.”

“What can you tell us about these money trails?” Natasha asked.

Tony’s smirk returned to his shark grin and he pulled a small bound notebook from his inner pocket, “What do you want to know?”

“How about we start with some names,” Clint suggested, rising from his chair to dig around in one of the cabinets, pulling out their notes from where they kept them hidden away when not actively in use. “And then we’ll figure out how to take ‘em down.”

Tony had stayed with the Pack frequently while they worked through the intelligence he was able to gather and even came with them for some of the operations to take down some of the higher level players. Steve grumbled the first few times that Tony showed up at the house, usually walking in without bothering to knock and immediately launching into one long-winded rant or another, but then it seemed to taper off. 

There had even been a few times that Bucky had gone out to the barn to get Steve and Tony for lunch only to over at the door. Stopping just to watch them chatter amicably or doubled over in laughter, Tony’s sly shark grin replaced by the genuine one that Bucky had always known. Seeing the change only warmed his heart more. 

Steve stopped looking painfully awkward and uncomfortable when he came across Bucky and Tony curled comfortably on the couch together, talking and catching up on years missed. He stopped being surprised and disgruntled when he woke up on the occasional morning to find that Tony had crept in at some point during the night and was sleeping soundly snuggled in close to Bucky. Especially once he came to the understanding that those mornings usually followed nights filled with nightmares.

When Bucky commented on the changes, Steve had just smiled softly and pressed a kiss to the spot where he would eventually place his mark, binding them together, “You’re happier when he’s around. I don’t think I could deny you that if I tried.”

Bucky knew that, no matter what happened in the future, he would never forget the look of surprise Tony wore the first time Steve tugged him into a hug with the same affection that he showed the rest of the Pack. Or when Natasha nudged her way in between them on the couch and sunk into comfortable conversation with them, curling up in just the way that had her nearly draped over both of them. Sam and Clint had seemed to warm up to Tony early on, exchanging witty banter with the Omega as though they’d always done it.

And then the time came where they had completed their objective. The ring had been brought down, crumbled like a house of cards and left in ruins. The week following the final stage, the Pack plus Tony stayed close, remaining at the house and, aside from nighttimes, mostly within arms reach of one another. It had been...difficult. Despite using their information to go through official channels, it had still come down to something of a fight in the end. 

One of the top dogs of the shady organization turned out to be  _ very _ high up and it turned out that Secretary Pierce hadn’t appreciated the accusations nor the formal charges brought upon him courtesy of the ample evidence the Pack had managed to accumulate against him. Tony had insisted that the only real way to handle a man like Pierce was to do it through official channels. Natasha had agreed with his conclusion, albeit begrudgingly. What she was even less pleased with, however, was the Pack’s insistence at keeping Bucky, Natasha, and Tony as far out of the confrontation as possible. Not that Bucky could blame her, he was decidedly unhappy with the decision too. He understood it,to a point, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it.

Pierce hadn’t been the sort of man to give up easily but help had come from an unexpected source. A pair of serious-looking Betas, a man and a woman, from Pierce’s own office had managed to subdue Pierce with skill that was decidedly anticlimactic. 

Afterwards, the Pack and the two newcomers reconvened at the tavern, Steve being firmly against inviting the strangers into their home.

“So you’re the one who managed to sweet talk my best deep cover agent to go off the grid,” the man said consideringly, studying Steve intently while seeming decidedly unimpressed all the while.

“I didn’t need to be convinced, Nick,” Natasha answered for Steve. 

The man--Nick, apparently--pinned her with a dark glare, “You’re lucky I don’t drag you back in kicking and screaming to bring you up on charges.”

“What would you charge her with?” Steve asked, eyes narrowed, leaning forward against the table with forearms crossed over top.

“Oh, I’m sure I could come up with a whole list,” Nick answered dismissively, not bothering to so much as glance in the Alpha’s direction. “Your abandonment of your post cost us  _ six years _ on this case. I hope you recognize your role in this mess.”

“It was also her skills that allowed us to systematically tear down the entire network within a year,” Sam pointed out, tilting his head and brows arched pointedly. “Between Natasha, Bucky, and Tony--”

“I recognize that I was a week at most from being sold off myself,” Natasha said, leaning back into her seat with forced casualness.

“We wouldn’t have let that happen,” the female Beta said firmly. “We had eyes on the situation.”

“Maria, you had nothing on the situation but exactly what I was reporting back,” Natasha retorted. “And I hadn’t been given access to a drop in over a month. I was on my own and you know it.”

“We had a buyer lined up, loyal to us that would have allowed you to maintain your cover,” Nick countered.

“Woh-woah, hold on,” Sam interjected again. “You’re tellin’ us, that you knew she was gonna be sold off and had  _ arranged _ for someone to buy her? She’s a goddamn person not livestock. What’s with you people?”

“We had invested a lot of time and resources in the investigation,” Nick scowled. “Romanoff maintaining her position was vital for what we were attempting.”

“Pretty inefficiently if you ask me,” Tony said in that familiar condescending tone. “I mean, if a no-name Pack and I can do your job for you in less time than it took you…”

Nick glared darkly at Tony for a short moment before nodding in begrudging agreement. He turned his attention back to Natasha, “You will have to return for a full debrief.”

“No,” Natasha said simply.

“Might I remind you, Agent--”

“I’m not your Agent anymore,” she interrupted firmly. “I haven’t been in six years. I’ve paid my debt. You’ll get copies of the information we managed to gather to take back with you. But I’m not leaving.”

“Agent Romanoff--”

“Natasha,” Clint interrupted, earning a scowl from both of the Betas at continuously being cut off. “Tash if you want an elbow to the gut but her name is Natasha.”

“Did you have a contract?” Tony asked.

“Yes, she does,” Nick answered.

Tony shot a patronizing smirk, “I don’t think I was speaking to you, be quiet and wait your turn, Buttercup.” He looked back at Natasha expectantly.

“Yes,” Natasha confirmed. “Three years or however long it took to finish that assignment, whichever was greater.”

“Well, the assignment is complete,” Tony said thoughtfully. 

“Yet she left her contract two years in,” Fury argued.

“And has finished the assignment six years later,” Tony shrugged. “And has  _ technically _ utilized her skills and time in deep cover to complete said assignment. Sounds like time served to me.”

“You of all people should know that’s not how contracts work, Stark,” Maria interjected.

“Actually, that can be exactly how they work,” Tony countered. He dug into his inner pocket for his notebook and fished a small card from it. “Send everything related to her contract to this address. SI lawyers will stay in touch. Make sure to send the itemized listing of the cost of buying out the contract.” His eyes narrowed and he went on to clarify, “What  _ remains  _ of her contract. Don’t go trying to pull your sneaky spy shit either, my lawyers are not idiots.”

“Now listen here, Stark--” 

“Nope, not doing that thing,” Tony said, shark grin pasted firmly back on his face. “Pretty sure I don’t really care about what you’re about to say, so why waste the effort?”

“I think you’re done here,” Steve interjected, calm but serious.

“I want that evidence,” Nick returned, meeting Steve’s stare unperturbed.

“You’ll get your files as soon as my lawyers receive the contract,” Tony countered promptly.

Steve said nothing to counter Tony’s declaration, just arched his brows high in expectation and tilted his head to nod sideways in Tony’s direction in agreement with the words. Bucky had to take a moment to settle that in his mind. 

Months ago, Steve would have been hard pressed to let Tony handle what could be considered Pack matters. There would have been arguments and pushback and insistence that it wasn’t Tony’s job to take over. Natasha would have gotten defensive in her own right. It was her problem and it was her problem to fix. But, sitting around the table at the tavern with Nick and Maria like they were, neither Steve nor Natasha gave any indication that they were the least bit unsettled that Tony had shouldered his way into the matter and took over. Unless Bucky was mistaken--and he didn’t think he was--Natasha looked a little relieved. And Steve looked...proud? So did Clint and Sam, for that matter.

Bucky wondered if Tony realized the significance. If he realized that  _ he _ had a Pack, a family, too now. Bucky would be willing to bet just about everything he had to his name that Tony had no idea.

The Pack stayed silent until Nick and Maria had departed. Sam had gone to the bar to gather another round while sertipitously watching the windows to ensure that they were actually leaving and not lingering to snoop. He carried the drinks back to the table before retaking his seat and nodding pointedly to Steve. They were gone.

Good riddance.

Bucky let relief seep through him. It was over. It was all  _ actually _ over. He leaned to his left, settling against Steve’s side, relaxing further when Steve’s hand rose to squeeze affectionately at the back of his neck before stretching to drape his arm across Bucky’s shoulders. 

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Natasha said to Tony after a moment, quiet and thoughtful.

Tony shrugged, “I know I don’t  _ have  _ to but that’s partially why I  _ am. _ Sure as hell not leaving you to those sneaky bastards.”

“Let me know what all it says? The cost and everything?” She requested.

“You’ll know what I know, no less,” Tony assured her. “I’ll make sure to send copies back here as soon as I get them.”

“You mean have them sent to you?” Sam asked.

“No?” Tony frowned in confusion.

“You’re leaving then,” the Beta said, tone flat and neutral.

“Well yeah,” Tony blinked. “The thing’s done, right? That’s what I was here for.”

Yeah. Tony didn’t have a clue. 

Bucky tilted his head upwards to meet Steve’s considering gaze. Steve smiled softly, ghosting a light kiss against the top of his head before turning his attention back to Tony. 

Steve’s voice was thoughtfully casual when he finally spoke, “Or you could stay.”

“What for?” Tony frowned. 

“You belong here, Idiot,” Natasha replied, brow arched in amused fondness.

“No,” Tony disagreed. “No, I’ve only been a tagalong to beat the bad guys. I mean, I was going to offer to buy out your contract as soon as they said it existed. That’s just...what it is.”

“Yeah, but Nat wouldn’t let anyone get so far as making the offer other than  _ maybe _ Pack,” Clint pointed out. 

“But I’m not...Pack?” Tony said, frown deepening.

Bucky couldn’t help but put the poor man out of his misery and finally spoke up. “Tony. You literally just sat through what was basically a Pack meeting and you  _ led _ the negotiations. You’ve spent the better part of the last year with us--” Bucky didn’t miss the way Steve’s arm tightened slightly around him when he referred to the Pack as ‘us’. “You’re stuck with us, Stark.”

Tony looked dumbstruck for just a moment and slightly panicked. He swallowed heavily and leaned back into his chair, fingers tapping anxiously against the tabletop. 

“Let’s head back to the house,” Steve suggested. “We can talk about it more there, if you want but I’m ready to get somewhere a little more secure.”

When they got back, Sam and Natasha roped Tony into helping with dinner while Clint perched on the counter providing his own brand of running commentary. Steve and Bucky settled onto one of the couches and Steve immediately tucked Bucky into his side. They didn’t talk for a stretch, though they really didn’t need to. It was nice to relax and soak up each other’s presence and the sounds of the Pack, together and safe.

“Steve,” he said quietly after several long moments of comfortable silence. Steve hummed an acknowledgement and Bucky swallowed nervously. “They’re gone. We did it.”

“We did,” Steve confirmed, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“Are you still looking to keep your other promise?” Bucky asked.

“Which promise is that?”

Bucky tipped his head back to look up at Steve, “Our bonding?”

Steve stilled, studying Bucky’s expression intently. “D’you want me to keep that promise?”

“You know I do,” Bucky said.

Steve’s smile was slow but bright and he ducked his head to kiss Bucky soundly, pulling back just enough to speak against Bucky’s lips, “Can’t think of anything that’d make me happier.”

Bucky grinned and pushed forward to kiss him again. The kisses lingered and grew more heated until Steve pulled back suddenly with a scowl. Bucky frowned in confusion until Steve glared over his shoulder, “Barton, if you do not stop throwing shit at me you’ll be bunking with the cows.”

“Those are  _ new couches, _ Steve,” Clint argued almost petulantly. 

“Yeah, take it upstairs,” Sam tossed in. “We’re just convincing Stark to stick around, don’t go destroying all our hard work.”

Bucky sat upright, ignoring Steve’s whine of protest, attention locking onto Tony, “You’re staying?”

Tony looked almost shy for a moment, a decidedly unusual look on the man, before he quickly masked it with a smirk and a shrug, “I’ll have to head back for a few weeks. Tie up some ends and make sure I can still operate remotely but…”

Bucky just grinned happily.

“You really gotta stop smilin’ like that,” Steve said lowly near his ear.

“Why’s that?” Bucky asked though his grin only widened.

Steve’s eyes softened and he closed the small gap between them to kiss him again, “Keep looking and smelling all pleased and happy makes me want to do whatever I can to keep you that way.”

“That’s a bad thing?” Bucky returned.

“I just got food thrown at me for making you happy,” Steve smirked. Bucky laughed and pressed into the kiss again, humming happily when it deepened once more.

“What--fucking  _ hell,  _ guys--” Clint groaned. “Take it  _ upstairs.  _ Don’t go all bondy on the new couches!”

Steve grinned wickedly against Bucky’s lips and then pulled back. And suddenly Bucky was in the air, folded over Steve’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes as Steve crossed the room in long strides.

“Gah,  _ Steeve!”  _ He yelped, unable to stop his laughter at his Alpha’s ridiculousness. 

“What? You heard the man, I’m takin’ you upstairs,” Steve’s grin could be heard in his words.

The last thing Bucky heard before their bedroom door was kicked closed and Steve dropped him far enough to press against the inside of the door was Tony’s laughing voice calling up the stairs behind them, “Don’t worry, we won’t hold dinner! Take your time!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks!


End file.
